Norman's Neighborhood

Five

"Mom! Dad!"
Logan had discovered Norman's escape route. The pile of earth was still damp, indicating that it had been dug up very recently. The scent of it still hung in the air. Dena, who was closer, arrived just  before Mike ran up. She grimaced when she saw the fresh excavation, and held out the red collar she had found. Its three tags glinted in the midday sun; one for proof of rabies vaccination, one with Norman's name and the cell phone numbers of both Dena and Mike, and one with the name and phone number of the microchip company whose identifying device had been implanted in their pet.

"Uh-oh, where'd you find that?" Mike asked, running his fingers through his slightly curly, sandy brown hair.
"By the hedge," Dena answered, gesturing. "This means he's running around out there with no collar, no visible I.D. - I wonder what got into him?"
"Maybe," suggested Logan, "he went looking for us?"
"You may have a point," Mike agreed. "Now we need to track him down."
"He's probably visiting one of the neighbors," Dena guessed. She examined the collar, which had been constructed so that it would detach itself if it got hung up on something.
"I found this right by the hedge. He must've gotten caught in the bushes, trying to go through to Bill and Marguerite's yard. Or coming back..." she added thoughtfully. "I think I'll start with them. I'll go ask if they've seen him today."

She started toward the side gate, but Mike stopped her.
"Do you have your phone on you? We need to keep track of each other." He pulled his own phone out of a pocket.
"Oh! No, I'd better run in and grab my purse. I'll go out the front, and I'll lock the door."

Logan held up his phone. "I have mine. I'll go check with Kathy."
He went to the back fence and unfastened the end section from the post that secured it, next to the hedge. Slipping through, he refastened it and waved to his parents before heading across the empty lot.
"I'll head that way," Mike decided, pointing away from  the Wusthofs' house, "just in case..."
He went out the gate as Dena disappeared inside the house. A minute or so later, she came hurrying out the front door. Locking it, she headed over to Bill and Marguerite's house.

**********

SCREEEECH!! Careening toward the corner and nearly going up on the curb, a car whizzed so close to Norman that the air ruffled his fur. Startled violently awake, he flattened himself against the pavement. The acrid black exhaust made him cough, and his eyes watered. Making the turn, the rattletrap accelerated and backfired with a loud "POP-p-p-p-POP!" Beginning to struggle to his feet, Norman quickly dropped back down when a siren sounded - "WHUP! WHUP! WHUP! Three abbreviated blasts were followed by a prolonged "WheeeEEEEeeeoooo" - the shrill cadence piercing Norman's ears painfully as it rose and fell. A police car, in rapid pursuit of the reckless driver, swung smoothly past him, a voice blaring on the loudspeaker, "PULL OVER! PULL OVER NOW!!"

Thoroughly unnerved, Norman scrambled to his feet and ran blindly ahead at top speed. He shot straight across the street instead of turning, racing down the block heedlessly. He heard, dimly, the howling protests of several other dogs - he would have added his own voice to the chorus were he not so preoccupied with fleeing.

Presently, Norman's pace slowed to a trot. His wet pink tongue hanging from his mouth, he gasped and huffed. His thirst had been magnified by exertion, and there was a mouthwatering smell issuing from one of the nearby houses. His stomach grumbled; the two sausages of the morning were but a memory. He sat down with a plop, right beside a short, neat picket fence with a wisteria-laden lattice arch over the walk. Drooling a bit as he gazed longingly toward the source of the savory aroma - which, according to Norman's keen sense of smell, was the very house before which he sat - he failed to notice the elderly woman sitting at a small table in the sunny yard.

The screen door opened, its hinges creaking. A tall, sturdy-looking, dark-skinned woman, who had pushed it open with her foot, sidestepped slowly to prevent the door from banging. She carried a tray on which were a few dishes and two glasses of water. Smiling at the thin, white-haired woman, she stepped carefully down from the porch and announced, "Here's your lunch, Miss Millie."
"It smells wonderful, as usual, Evelyn," replied the older woman, returning a smile. "Now, let's eat - I'm hungry!"