Found and Lost

I swallowed a too hot mouthful of coffee and winced as it burned a path to my already churning stomach. Rehearsed answers rolled through my mind like a teleprompter. This time, I would not blunder my way through the interview and limp away to nurse my empty heart. Returning to my deathly quiet apartment again tonight without purpose and a plan, sent a lump of concrete to my core.

On the parched road ahead, a leaf swirling and skittering dangerously between cars snagged my gaze. I hunched over the steering wheel, squinted through the streaky windscreen and gasped. Yanking the wheel to the right, my SUV bounced up a thick concrete kerb, trailed by horns honking and engines rumbling. This road was a nonstop machine and I: a cog refusing to cooperate. I scrambled from the car, gravel rolling under my heels, eyes locked on the road. Its four legs were a blur of wild white. Running. Weaving. I pulled my shoes off and ran down the footpath, breath ragged, watching the tiny tan and white puppy in the fight for its life.

“Puppy!” I yelled.

It barrelled on and I did too, feet already raw; angry blisters growing.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Here boy! Here girl!” My voice rose into the orange sky and fell nowhere near the tiny ears deafened by revving engines.

Ahead of me, a red car squealed onto the footpath and a door slammed. A tall dark-haired man nodded in my direction and ran in pursuit too. His long legs ate up the footpath. Still, I ran. The puppy veered right. I closed my eyes for a beat. The puppy veered left. I waited for the crunch, the squeal. Tears pushed at the back of my eyes as the clueless dog dashed down the middle of the road right toward a four-way intersection during peak hour.

“No!” I cried. I looked away, heart thudding, hot summer air dry in my mouth. I thought of the owner, the sick panic they would feel knowing this was the end of their dog’s fleeting life. I chanced another look. Drivers began slowing down and the lean man stepped into oncoming traffic, hands held up, ducking lithely around startled cars. The puppy slowed, the man grasped for it. Panicked, it slipped away into a shrubby park not far from my apartment.

Dusk began to curtain around me and I checked my watch. I’d left early for the interview but, still, I really couldn’t be doing this right now. My car sat crouched on the footpath - much further away than I realised. I jogged back, each step pounding out a rhythm: Please live. Please live. Please live. My mind scrambled to focus on the looming interview; all it wanted was the tiny pup alone in a dark, unfamiliar world. Had anyone else caught it yet? Were the owners out looking, calling until their voices grew hoarse? I knew the streets around here. I could help.

Except I couldn’t.

A few tears snaked their way down my face and I swiped them away as I climbed back into the car. Red brake lights flashed behind me and traffic continued its relentless hum not allowing me to reverse easily. I took three steadying breaths and a sip of icy water from my drink bottle. Thirty minutes until the interview. Fifteen minutes to get there. I could take a short detour just to see if anyone had found the dog. I gently nudged onto the road in the opposite direction of the school. I chewed my lip, turned down a side street and saw two people looking into the distance. One was the man from earlier.

I buzzed the window down. “Are you looking for the puppy?”

“Yes! It ran right by us and is headed for the coast.” A woman pointed down the tree lined street.

“I’m going to keep searching.” The man ran his hand through his dark hair, sweat patches blooming under his armpits. His wide brown eyes mirrored the angst lining my own eyes. A thread of understanding unspooled between us and, without words, he headed in one direction and I, the other. Some stupid part of me wanted to be the one to find the dog.

I kept one eye on the accusing black numbers of the digital car clock, the other scanning footpaths, scrubby bushes, front yards and alleyways for a running shadow, tyres slowly hissing along beneath me. My brows drew down when I registered the abnormality of that sound. Rolling to a stop, I heard the unmistakable slapping of a flat tyre: I must’ve popped it on the huge kerb. My heart plummeted, first for the puppy I’d never rescue and second, for the job I had just kissed goodbye to. Flicking on my phone torch, I slid out of the car to inspect the damage. Darkness continued its slow summery descent, and the beachside road took on a menacing quality: trees pointing spindly fingers at my misfortune, bushes full of unknown rustling. The tyre was a melted rubbery ice cream spilt on the bitumen and the interview was in twenty minutes - the tiny dog a lifetime away. I took a deep breath, leant against the still warm side of my car, metal popping slightly beneath my weight, and dialled the number of the school. The shrill ringing sounded once, twice and three times before a mellow voice answered.

“Hillside Grammar, Lincoln Hargreaves.”

I saw the face of the deputy in my mind: kind eyes, ruffled hair. “Hello, it’s Charlotte Lancaster…” my voice stopped abruptly. A whimper. A scuffling sound in the bushes a few metres in front of me. “I have to go.” I whispered into the phone before ending the call. Silently slipping my shoes off again, I bent to place them on the road feeling the hard crystals of bitumen bite into my feet. Each step was a soft breath, my ears straining to hear the intermittent whimpers. The scrub formed a border around a mowed front lawn of a new beach house. I tiptoed onto the property, and crouched in front of a scented rosemary hedge spotted with tiny purple flowers. The woody smell leapt out at me as I gingerly parted the stiff arms of the plant to reveal a shaking comma of a puppy, laying in the dirt of the garden bed. My eyes drinking in a sight I hadn’t believed I’d ever see.

“It’s okay.” I cooed, laying on the sharp grass to reach underneath the plant. Heat met my fingers, along with something sticky and the dog shook beneath my touch, dark eyes pooling with pain, pleading. I gingerly began to slide my palm underneath the splotched furry body, noticing a distinct brown spot right in the middle of its head. When I moved the puppy’s body, it let out a short yelp and I drew back, apologies on my lips. My hands were streaked with ribbons of blood, the puppy began panting.

Within seconds, I returned with a salt stiffened beach towel, the only suitable thing in my boot.

“I’m sorry, little one, this will hurt.” Gently stuffing the towel around the shivering bundle, I clenched my teeth and slipped both hands under the poor creature, wincing when it let out a squeal. “It’s okay.” I extricated it from underneath the bush, sat on my haunches and pressed its fluttering heart against my own. Despite being in pain, a gentle sandpaper tongue licked at my cheek and then my tears came. “You are one lucky little doggy.”

The interior light of the car showcased a deep laceration on one side of the puppy’s body. Blood dotted the wound, along with dirt and stones. Images of Lucky – the name I’d temporarily given – being clipped by a car, tumbling across the road, limping to a bush flashed across my mind. I had to get to a vet immediately. Abandoning my traitorous car, I called a pet friendly Uber and waited under a weak yellow streetlight with the murmur of waves crashing nearby. Lucky’s ears quivered, eyes starting to close.

*

The fluorescent lights inside the emergency vet buzzed above five people perched on the edges of blue plastic chairs, shivering animals in their arms. I made a beeline for the counter.

A woman with dark, curly hair and glasses pushed on top of her head, clicked away on her keyboard for an interminable time before looking up at me with a tired smile.

“I found this puppy running on the road and I think its been hit…” I held Lucky higher so she could see the injuries, hoping it would rustle her into action.

“Oh dear.” She stood and reached for Lucky, examining the bloody gash. “Looks serious. Thank you for bringing him, her?” she gently lifted the towel and nodded. “Him in.”

A little boy. With a little dot on his head. Warmth filled my chest each time I learnt something new about this animal.

“I need to get him in to see the vet and we can scan his chip to notify his owner. Once you fill this paperwork in with your details, you can wait if you like.” The nurse continued, Lucky pressed up against her wrinkled navy scrubs.

Of course I was going to wait. Lucky might need me. I watched until Lucky disappeared behind a closed door. After scribbling my contact details on the page, I sat on the edge of a chair, legs crossed, adrenaline beginning to drift from my veins. Yawning, I began to scroll social media and saw a post about a lost dog. I straightened in my chair. I needed to post something about Lucky on a local group but I had no photos.

“Charlotte?” the nurse called.

I jumped up. “Yes?”

“We scanned the chip but the contact number has been disconnected.”

My stomach fizzed. Maybe he would come home with me tonight after all.

“And he needs emergency surgery on the wound. He’ll be staying overnight.” She pushed on. “Are you happy to come and collect him tomorrow around lunchtime if we can’t..”

“Yes.” I interrupted, already imagining his soft patchy body tucked into bed with me. “Yes, I will be there.”

*

Lincoln Hargreaves lounged against the doorframe of Hillside Grammar’s administration building. His tousled hair bounced slightly as he spoke and he spilt some of his morning coffee on his white shirt when he sipped it. He was even more attractive in real life.

“Lincoln?” I spoke his name once I reached the doorway.

He turned, still wiping at the seeping dark stain. “That’s me.” He smiled but it didn’t quite catch in his bloodshot eyes. There were dark circles underneath.

“Charlotte Lancaster.” I extended my hand but he was still holding the coffee mug. We stood for a beat then laughed a little. “I’m just here to apologise in person for my odd behaviour last night.”

Lincoln gestured for me to come inside and we sat on two leather ottomans in the cool, shadowy reception. Outside, the sun climbed higher every second.

“I’m glad you’re here Charlotte. We were really looking forward to interviewing you…”

I cleared my throat. “It was completely unexpected. There was..” I paused, wondering how flighty it would sound to explain I rescued a puppy instead of furthering my career. “an emergency.” I finished weakly.

“Any luck?” a diminutive red-haired woman asked as she passed Lincoln. He shook his head, defeat clinging to him like a spider’s web.

“Charlotte,” the way he spoke my name was like breaking through the burnt sugar of a crème brulee. “I really am sorry we couldn’t consider you for the job. I hope everything’s okay.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I’d squandered something incredible. But then I thought of Lucky running blindly through the streets and I knew I’d do it again.

“Thanks Lincoln.” I stood and smoothed down my floral dress.

“You can call me Linc. Hopefully we’ll cross paths again.” He stood too and smiled – this one sparking in his bottle green eyes.

*

Lucky lay pushed up against my thigh on the couch in a grey surgical onesie. The vet still had no leads on the owner and I massaged my neck thinking how devastated they must be today. I’d snapped a number of photos of Lucky and planned to upload them to the local lost pets page but my request to join still hadn’t been approved. Deep inside, a window of hope nudged open. Maybe circumstance would have it that Lucky and I were destined to find each other.

“Ready for bed?” I asked.

Lucky rolled over and stared at me, head tilted. I laughed and lifted him into my arms, kissing the tan spot on top of his head. He smelt like mashed bananas and syrup. After taking him to the toilet, we tucked ourselves into bed, air conditioning swishing cold air into the dark room. For once, I fell asleep quickly to the quiet snores of a teeny, lucky puppy nestled firmly against my back.

*

Keys jangling, I shoved my way into my apartment, laden with shopping bags. I dropped the groceries onto the marble kitchen bench, putting away the cold goods and snagging a packet of dog treats. The clicking of toenails on the tiles and a squeaky yap sounded. Lucky’s nose poked through the makeshift drying rack gate I had erected between the laundry and the kitchen. I set him free and his whole body wriggled; he licked at my bare ankles.

“Have you been a good boy?” I cooed. His dark pebble eyes widened. I slipped him a beefy treat. We played a gentle game of tug of war with one of my socks he’d found and half an hour drifted by like five minutes. Lucky took a drink break and splashed water all over the tiles. I grinned.

Then my phone pinged.

Lucky crawled onto my lap and curled up. I rested one hand on his coarse fur and opened the notification with another. It was a comment under the post I’d finally made earlier on the lost pets page and my hand trembled as I clicked on it. I dropped the phone and it clattered to the floor. I clutched Lucky closer to me. Of course, I knew this would happen. But ever since Lucky had arrived in my home, the silence had been banished. My stomach twisted at the thought of returning to an empty home again. The phone sounded. I swiped it open and saw a direct message request. The woman had sent through three photos of a dog. A small tan and white puppy with a dot on top of its head. Her son was beside himself after his dog had escaped from her place two days ago. She had been waiting for someone local to post something.

“Lucky, you are loved.” I whispered as we texted back and forth planning to meet up. The woman – Sandra – sent crying emojis once she’d confirmed both her and her son could meet at 4 pm today at the local beachside dog park. I knew to look out for a woman with unruly blonde curls.

*

I locked the door behind me with a metallic thud, Lucky nestled in my arms, ready to be reunited with his real family. We drove to the park in near silence, no music, no more cooing chatter from me because I knew it’d end in tears. Now and again Lucky looked up at me and, just as we pulled into a parking spot, he rested his soft chin on my arm and gazed into my eyes. No wonder people fell in love with their dogs – they stared right into your soul and only saw the good parts.

“I’m going to miss you Lucky.” I sniffled and kissed his spotted head one last time. “Now, let’s go find your dad.” Afternoon sunlight drowned in a bank of dark clouds – a summer storm heading in. Flickers of lighting danced on the horizon and the ocean was a flat slate. We weaved our way through various knots of dogs and owners and then Sandra came into view. Lucky began squirming, tail flicking a beat against my ribcage. If I’d had any doubt about her claims, they were squashed. Sandra ran. Lucky barked a staccato rhythm. I smiled.

“Oak!” she called. And then she was there. And crying. And Lucky wriggled free and suddenly my arms were empty. Lucky didn’t exist anymore. He was called Oak and he belonged exactly where he was. Sandra’s son began to run over from where he’d been parking the car and I turned around to wipe away my tears. No more warm snuggles on the bed, no more water to mop up in the laundry, no more soft huffing breaths keeping me company. Oak’s barks turned to one long howl and I heard a velvet voice speak.

“It’s you. Oak!” the voice cracked and I took a deep breath, turning to see a head of ruffled hair leant over Oak. They were joined together – so close it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. He looked up and bottle green eyes met my own. His mouth fell open and my hand flew to my chest.

“Charlotte?” There it was again. My name in that voice.

“Lincoln?” The bloodshot eyes, the air of sadness around him two days ago …

In two strides, Lincoln and Oak were beside me. Lincoln grinning through tears and Oak licking my chin with his tiny tongue. “You saved his life.”

Laughter bubbled up and my heart lightened like a daffodil seed in the wind. “And I think Oak found mine again.”