The Dog-Tired Go-Between Is Left Panting by the Phone
Approximately 8:09 p.m. Friday night and I’m sitting in my office, watching the ants swimming in the bottom of my soda cup and waiting for the phone to ring. You do a lot of that in my business--waiting for the phone to ring, I mean. It had been a long day already. I had hoped to put the finishing touch on the Alice column for today--Alice the missing beagle--sometime before 6 p.m. and head for the nearest oasis. But this puppy wasn’t ready to sleep. Not yet, anyway.
One phone call was all I needed. One call telling me that Alice was back home.
Instead, in that still office with no phone ringing, I had plenty of time to reflect on the case, which I first heard about three days before. Normally, I don’t handle missing-dog capers, but when Susy the pet detective called and spilled what she knew--how Alice, a 10-month-old beagle ran off July 11 in northern San Diego County and was possibly now in Orange County--my ears perked up.
Susy didn’t have a lot to go on, but it was enough: 1) dog ran off from home in Solana Beach while getting a bath; 2) dog captured short time later by sheriff’s deputy who then gave the lost pup to one of two women who had helped him; 3) the woman who took the dog mentioned to the deputy before driving off that she lived in Orange County.
That was the gist of it, so I put it in the paper Wednesday morning and waited for the phone to ring.
It didn’t take long.
Approximately 4:14 Wednesday afternoon, I checked for messages. A woman in Irvine said she might have some information about the beagle in that morning’s column: “I believe it’s living on my street.”
I grilled her like a Philly steak sandwich and she fed me some details. Her neighbor showed up a few weeks ago with a new beagle, she said. When she asked where she got it, the neighbor said it was a runaway with no collar that she and her mother rescued while having lunch in Solana Beach.
I reviewed my notes of the case. Beagle. Solana Beach. Two women. Orange County. Putting two and two together, I came up with approximately four.
The next morning, Thursday, I began my field work. With two doughnuts and an orange juice safely tucked under my belt, I headed for the subject’s neighborhood in the nice part of town, hoping to explain things to her, hoping she’d understand that Alice wouldn’t be living there anymore. I knew she wouldn’t want to hear that.
I parked the car--a white one on loan from the company--a goodly distance away so as not to arouse suspicion. Although it was hot and the car was air-conditioned, I decided to travel the last two blocks on foot. I arrived at the subject’s location at approximately 11:07 a.m. and noticed immediately that the garage door was closed. I spotted two newspapers lying in the driveway. The place looked deserted, but I let myself in through an iron gate and rang the doorbell.
No one answered. I rang again.
I detected no visible activity inside the home and, putting everything together, concluded that no one was there. I jotted down something else: No dog barked.
I loitered in the area and went back to the house 15 minutes later. I noticed the newspapers hadn’t moved. I returned to the office at approximately 11:52 a.m. and reviewed my notes before going to lunch.
That night, I made telephone contact with the subject. She wasn’t happy to hear from me and our conversation ended without really beginning. The next day, Friday, I found out why.
At approximately 2:48 p.m. Friday, Alice’s owner informed me that the woman had phoned her late Thursday night and said she probably had her dog. Almost immediately, however, the conversation went staler than week-old bread as they disagreed over payment. Alice’s owner thought the woman’s figure sounded like a ransom demand; the other woman considered it a fair accounting of what she and her husband had spent on Alice the last six weeks.
Alice’s owner said they’d agreed to exchange the pup at approximately 6 p.m. in a strip mall parking lot. The woman who had been taking care of Alice insisted that no media and no pet detective be present.
Perplexed, I sat by the phone and waited for it to ring. At approximately 3:32 p.m. it did. It was Susy the pet detective, who said: “I’m about to drop off an envelope at your kiosk.” I looked up “kiosk” in the dictionary and figured she meant the security guard shack outside the building. “We have a big break in the case, and it’s in Irvine,” she said.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was one step ahead of her.
When I asked Susy how she felt about not going to the exchange, she agreed it was for the best: “I think if a person knows I’m the detective, I’ll just exacerbate the situation.”
I decided to play ball too. Rather than see if Alice actually got exchanged at approximately 6 p.m., I stayed in my office and waited for the phone to ring, waited for someone to tell me the deal went down OK.
It’s now approximately 9:36 p.m. and the phone hasn’t rung in hours. I think I’ll review my notes one last time, then head home and catch the ball scores on TV. I have no idea if Alice is now back in Solana Beach or in Irvine. Or somewhere in between.
In my business, you sometimes make people happy. Sometimes you make them sad. At least, that’s where this one seems headed.
As for me, I can’t play favorites. Can’t afford to swap tears or back-slap with the crowd. Hurts too much when I’m wrong.
It’s easier this way: Going it alone, sitting in the office, waiting for the phone to ring.
Editor’s note: The story has a happy ending. Alice has been returned to her original owners, the two families parted as friends and Alice’s interim caretakers are actively pursuing the purchase of a new beagle.
Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com
