I have written about my dog Riley before. And about how much I love him. And about how he really is this (wo) man’s best friend. But it has come to my attention, and Riley, cover your floppy ears, I really love all dogs. Even dogs I don’t know, or have ever seen. Case in point: Sandy.

Sandy lives a few streets over. She was hit by a car 48 hours ago, and then ran off from her owner, clearly injured, but well enough to make a getaway. In Brookline, where I live, we have something called the Green Dog Program. It’s an effort to allow dogs to use parks during certain hours, in order to run free. I think it’s really great, since Brookline has many houses with small yards, and enough traffic, that people don’t necessarily feel comfortable allowing their dogs to walk off leash. Anyway, I am on an email list, comprised of my local green dog peeps and pups and received an urgent message two mornings ago that Sandy had been hit, and to please be on the lookout for her. My heart fell, my stomach lurched. I could imagine exactly how frantic and overwhelmed the owners must be, and I could also feel how scared the dog must be. Now, as you know, I am human, but I am wondering if I might be at least part canine, because I really started to experience this dog’s fear (I have never once told you that my sanity was in tact in this blog, so you can decide). Anyway, while I walked Riley and started to look around. I was kind of peering under bushes and in backyards. But all I came up with were some candy wrappers (which made me wonder if we needed a litter campaign). The emails continued to come with news. My friend Leah, another part dog person like me, put up a Sandy post on Facebook. Sandy had still not been found. We were asked to please look under our porches, and in our garages and yards. I volunteered to help in any way I could. I walked Riley yesterday, and once again, snooped my way around the neighborhood, including telling a woman on the street who was walking a dog. She was very nice, but I did notice she scurried off when I started to get teary. I saw a flyer on an electrical post with Sandy on it. The campaign to find this dog was in full swing.

I kept telling my family how worried I was about Sandy, but they weren’t very moved, which I took offense at, and which made me start thinking that I might not be as balanced a human being as I thought. I was about to leave to go get a haircut, when my friend Dave called to talk about Sandy (FINALLY, a normal response) and ask me to go take a peak in his garage. No, don’t get excited, she wasn’t there. But I did appreciate Dave’s concern. And I am moving him onto my “favorites” list on my phone.

Anyway, I got an email yesterday, actually I got several emails, from the Green Dog Park list, from the Emerson Garden neighborhood list, and from the owner himself, to let me know that Sandy had been found! I wanted to have a parade! Someone had brought her to Angell Memorial, and because she had a chip, they were able to locate her family. And she seems to be in pretty good shape. You’d have thought I had just won an all expense paid trip to Bora Bora, when I heard this news. I was so happy and excited that this dog was ok.

I am very grateful to live in a place where dogs are considered people. I am so happy to know if my furry guy ever got loose, and ran away, that people in my hood would take it seriously, and go looking for him. That means a lot to me. Dog people are a different breed. And I’m happy to call myself one of them. Notice, I am not calling myself sane here, but I am calling myself a dog person. And that may mean a little nuts, but that’s just fine with me.