Lost: A Dog’s Perspective

I’d been wandering for days. By the time I lost count of them, my paws were rough and torn and I knew every inch of the neighborhood by smell.

That was the worst part about being a homeless mutt.

The smells.

Drool-worthy scents and sounds came from every corner, followed by the blissful laughter of happy parents and children drifting out of the open doors. Always, I would instinctively track down the trail of grease and raw meat into the dark alley behind the cafe and end up with my nose pressed against the huge metal box sitting there. The food was inside it, I was sure, but even though I stretched up as far as I could with my paws on the side of the box, I wasn’t tall enough to get to the delicious smells.

Why did humans put the food they didn’t want in metal boxes just to rot away? Why didn’t they share them with starving, homeless dogs like me? I had to satisfy myself with the crumbs and bits of fallen food scattered around the box and the nearby door. There was never enough to make the gnawing go away.

Almost as terrible as my growling stomach were the frightening yells and shooing and shoes thrown at me for no reason. Sometimes I even had to run away from scary humans with scary-looking sticks who chased me all around the neighborhood. Once, my leash got stuck around a pole and they almost trapped me, but I got away at the last second.

I couldn’t understand. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I? But apparently, begging for food scraps at back doors or politely waiting near families eating lunch in the park were considered bad behavior by these humans. It made me feel hurt and confused. How else was I going to find food to eat?

Maybe humans couldn’t be trusted after all.

When I wasn’t hunting after a scent or wandering along the creek in the park trying to stay out of the way of bad humans, I lay in the cool grass next to a towering tree, head between my paws, listening to my stomach make strange noises and watching the busy street in the distance. I studied the people passing by and hoped with all my heart that I’d catch a glimpse of a familiar soft brown head with one little tail popping out of one side and laughing blue eyes. This was the last place I’d seen my small human, and my brain told me that she’d come back here looking for me. I couldn’t stay away for long.

As each day passed with no sight of her, and each night of painful hunger dragged by, my head drooped more and my pattering footsteps turned into aimless stumbling. I started to become dismal, my hope sinking further away. Every time I heard a child’s excited squeal, my ears perked up, only to fall again with yet another dashed hope.

Yes, I was a mutt, but I was a lovable mutt. My human loved me. I knew it. She’d told me that every day, along with suffocating hugs and many kisses to prove it. And I loved her too, so very much. Ever since she’d rescued me from the dog shelter when I was just a pup, she had been my entire life. My whole purpose and reason for living. Every minute she was at home I spent by her side, and every minute she wasn’t I spent staring at the door waiting for it to swing open again.

I’d never stop loving her. Didn’t she still feel that way about me? I couldn’t lose faith in her.

One afternoon, I was sniffing around a picnic table in the park after an abandoned bag of food underneath. I’d scented it from a couple blocks over and my whole focus was zeroed in on that incredible smell. With my head squeezed under the bench as far as I could reach, my teeth finally grasped the edge of the paper bag and I pulled it across the ground until I could see what was inside.

Finally! I’d made a discovery most dogs only dream of. Some kind human had left half a hamburger, a pile of french fries, and an entire hot dog slathered in ketchup for some lucky mutt to find. Today, I was that lucky mutt. My stomach chirped in anticipation and I let my tongue hang out of my mouth happily. I’d hardly eaten anything since the half empty can of tuna two nights ago.

Licking my lips, I opened my mouth, prepared to gobble this feast down in two seconds, when I suddenly became aware of something that my distracted senses had missed before.

A low, threatening growl came from beside the tree to my left. I whipped my head to the side and saw a mangy hound tensed to attack, his eyes cloudy and half-crazed, gray-brown fur matted with open sores, and drool dripping from his bared teeth. His hungry gaze was on the bag at my paws. I glanced around for any human nearby, but it was obvious he was on his own. It looked like this dog had been on the streets for much, much longer than I had.

My hackles rose and my lips automatically curled in response. Maybe it would be smarter to drop the bag and make myself scarce, but I was starving. In a split-second, I made my decision: I’d found this food first, and I was going to defend my property.

Quickly, I glanced around. I saw a part of the park that rose into a sort of hill and had a few rocks perched on top. It was higher up than anywhere else; maybe if I could get there, I’d be able to fight the enemy hound off successfully.

The incoming dog gave a sharp bark, the message of “this is your last chance to get out of this alive” coming across unmistakably. Lowering my head slightly, I made it look like I was about to show submission, but when the mongrel released his threatening stare ever so slightly, I took the opening and darted as fast as I could in the opposite direction, my teeth firmly embedded in my precious prize.

Weaving and winding my way through the trees and benches, I bounded toward the little hill. By the snapping jaw and pounding paws behind me, I knew the other mutt was right on my tail. I took in gulps of air, my breathing rapid and heavy, and mustering up an extra burst of energy, I pushed my legs harder and cleared a bush at the base of the hill.

At the top, I leapt onto the biggest rock and scrambled to gain traction before my attacker could get the upper hand. I grit my teeth together defiantly and planted my feet firmly, staking my claim on the rock and my tasty prize. The other dog let out a vicious howl, and I knew the battle was far from over. He was really angry now. He circled my fortress a couple times first, looking for any weakness or vulnerability, but I refused to give him an inch. Then he lunged, pushing off his hind legs and snapping at the bag I still had clutched in my teeth. I avoided his sharp fangs and growled menacingly the entire time, hoping I was sending him a clear message that I would stand my ground.

After several minutes, the mongrel narrowed his demented eyes at me, a sort of determination filling them, and then he gave a frenzied yelp and leapt onto the rock, forcing me to the other edge. I immediately lunged back, snarling angrily, and managed to push him off the rock again, but not before his teeth had found my ear and given it a nasty nip. I whined in pain, but there was no time to focus on my wounds now.

As he repeatedly attacked, I felt my strength draining. Once again, he succeeded in getting his teeth into me, this time my hind leg. I started to feel anxious. My stomach still panged in hunger, and I was exhausted and aching from sleeping on the cold ground. I wasn’t used to this life. Could I really hold my own against this seasoned street veteran? A soft whimper escaped my mouth, and I was sure I saw my enemy’s lips curl in an evil smile. He knew I was faltering.

Why not just give in and surrender the food to him? Was it really worth fighting for when I’d only be grumbling with hunger again in a few minutes? I wasn’t sure anymore. I wanted to cry out for my human to come and save me, but I knew she wasn’t anywhere near to hear me. How I longed for my soft warm bed right then, for my human to stroke my coarse brown fur with loving caresses until I fell asleep with a full, happy stomach. Where was she right now? Was she safe? Had she forgotten about me after all? I felt an unfamiliar pain deep inside of me and it made me uncomfortable and confused.

Before I could register that I’d lost my focus and gotten distracted, I felt the air rush out of my lungs as my attacker darted in and flipped me onto my back. Startled, my jaw opened and the precious bag tumbled out of my mouth. I lay back, stunned, and realized that I had lost the fight. I was going to go hungry again.

I watched for the mongrel to grab his prize and escape with it, but he still hadn’t released his threatening stance over me. Panic flooded into me as he leaned down, his jaw bared toward my neck. When I noticed the full-on deranged look in his eyes, I realized that he wasn’t going to be satisfied with simply taking my food. He was out for revenge.

Was he planning to go for my throat? Was I going to die right here and now, without getting to see my little human’s smiling face ever again? The strange feeling of pain inside me sharpened, and I let out another slow, despairing whine.

The mongrel lowered his mouth toward me, fangs dripping, hot stinky breath clouding my face and lungs.

This was it. I was really going to die. I closed my eyes, panting softly, and waited for the snap that would end me.

“Petey!”

A squeal broke into the fogginess that had filled my head. A child’s voice, one that I’d know anywhere.

I jerked my head to the side, looking around wildly and hope flooding me again. My human! She’d come back for me!

The enemy dog jolted at the sudden shout and released his sharp focus on me for a split second. He quickly looked back at me, but it was too late.

I lunged forward, ducking out from under him and landing a good bite to his shoulder. He yelped in surprise and tried to fight back, but I leapt over to another rock and bared my fangs in warning. You just try to pull that one on me again, buster!

“Bad dog! Get away! Get away from my baby! Bad dog!” My human’s frantic screams came from a little ways off, and I turned to see her picking up rocks and sticks and throwing them at the bad mutt. He cowered slightly, but let out a low snarl. Clearly, he hadn’t taken my previous warning seriously. I barked sharply and growled deeply at him again, then cautiously retreated over to my human’s side.

An older human female came running over, yelling at the bad dog the whole time and then saying something into a little black thing she held against her ear. I recognized her as a member of my human pack. She grabbed my human’s arm and pulled her back. “Emmy, stay back! That’s a wild dog and we have no idea what he might do.”

“But Petey! He’s trying to hurt Petey. We have to do something.”

“Petey’s okay, baby girl. See, the bad dog is backing away already.”

I looked over at the enemy dog, and sure enough, he was slinking away behind the rocks. A crowd of curious humans had gathered around, and it was probably making him nervous. Finally, he tucked his tail and snuck off in the other direction, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

We were safe. And...my human was here! I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I turned to look up into her blue eyes and they were wet with something. I didn’t care. I sat on my haunches and just stared at her, taking in her brown hair and her sweet scent and I felt so happy I could burst. My tail began thumping hard on the ground and I realized that I hadn’t wagged it in days. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been happy enough to wag my tail.

My human squealed so loudly my ears hurt and threw her arms around me. “Oh, Petey! What happened to you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why didn’t you wait by the tree like I told you to?”

She waved her finger in my face and I cowered a bit, my ears drooping guiltily. I hadn’t meant to wander off, honest. I’m a good dog, and I really intended to sit there patiently until she returned. But the cafe down the street had been grilling hamburgers that day, and I tried, I really did, to stay put. But when more than five minutes had passed without seeing my human come back, I’d noticed my leash was loose and I couldn’t help going over to do a quick check if they’d be nice enough to share some of that mouth-watering meat with a hungry dog. How was I to know that the mean man would throw an odd-shaped metal stick at me and shout angry words that I’d never heard before? It frightened me, and when I ran away to find my human, I realized I was lost and didn’t know how to find my way back. By the time I did find the place again, she was gone.

Anyway, why did that matter anymore? Here she was, safe and sound, and I was back together with her. Everything was okay again.

She sniffed and buried her face in my neck. “I missed you so much! I was so worried about you. I’m so glad I finally found you.” She planted a huge kiss on my nose, and then looked upset at something. “Oh, Petey, you’re hurt! Mommy, Petey’s hurt. That horrible, evil dog! He’s in so much trouble for hurting you. I hope they catch him and put him in evil doggy prison.” She ran her fingers over my coat gently and leaned down to hug me again. “Oh, you poor baby. I’ll fix you up and make you all better. Don’t worry. I love you, Petey.”

I let out a happy grunt and licked her face. I didn’t even feel the pain of my wounds anymore. The older human muttered something about the vet and shots, but I didn’t care about that, either. I’d go to the vet every day if it meant I could be with Emmy.

My human picked up my ragged, torn leash that had somehow stayed attached to my collar and tugged me gently. “Let’s go, buddy.” I trotted after her, letting my tongue flop out the side of my mouth as I panted happily.

I would follow her anywhere.