random truths – Day 1,031 (Thursday) – pretty girl pearl

Pretty Girl Pearl.

Pretty Girl Pearl was a white and brown dog that landed on my doorstep ten years ago. It was a cold and rainy Tennessee night, and Pretty Girl Pearl was skinny and wet. She had come to the house the night before and as I wondered what to do with her, she left. The second night she stood on the porch, I let her into the house, where she made herself comfortable hanging out with Moose and Winston. 

Pearl was a leggy gal who thought she was a lap puppy and got cozy on the couch and my lap. I called her Pretty Girl Pearl because she didn’t have a collar on and I needed to call her something. 

She settled in pretty quickly. Pearl would counter surf the kitchen, where she got hold of my leather gloves and chewed off the tips of the fingers. She was thin, so I bought high calorie puppy food for her. She ate her food, anything left by Moose and Win, and anything of mine she could snatch.

After a week or so, on a weekday vacation day, I was walking with Pearl in the neighborhood. Pearl was practically dragging me down the street when a soccer-mom mini van drove past and came to a quick stop. A woman leaned out and asked if I that was my dog or if I had just found her.

By then, as I recall it, Pearl had been with us for over a week, during which time I posted on Facebook, ran a classified ad in the local paper, contacted animal control and friends who had rescue contacts, taken her to a vet to be scanned for a chip, complained about owners who don’t put collars with info tags on their pets, and other things I don’t remember.

It turned out, Pearl had been in the woman’s yard just a couple doors down from me before coming to my house. The woman had taken off the leather collar with a plate permanently attached that had a name and phone number on it. Then Pearl bolted from her yard, and she didn’t want to call the number to say that she had the collar but no longer the dog. 

Later in the day, after the woman finished the errands she was on her way to do when she drove past me and Pearl, she came to my house. Together, we called the number on the collar and made plans for the owner to come to my house. 

Pretty Girl Pearl’s name was actually Belle, and she was a purebred hunting dog that lived a few streets away in a pen she had figured out how to open the latch and escape from. As she dragged me down the street on the walk, we were approaching Pearl's house, but I didn't know that, and after meeting the woman in the van, we went back home.

Pearl/Belle and Winston.

Her pet dad, an older guy, didn’t use social media or read the newspaper, so he hadn’t seen my found dog ad or posts and pictures of Pearl or thought to post his own lost dog ad. As Pearl hung with Winston and Moose in my house during the day while I was at work, her pet dad  was driving all around the neighborhood looking for her.

He was glad to get her back. She was glad to see him. I was sad to see her go. The timing of her stay was stressful, with me trying to get rid of things and arrange the house sale, giving notice at work, and getting ready to move, but it was still fun having her around.