“Yeah, that’s right, Curtis and his mom rescue little mixed-breed dogs. Tiny things. Pretty cute. Curtis loves dogs, don’t cha’ Curtis?”
“Well, yes. I do. But we are on duty, Scrivello.” He pulls his partner to the side. I hear him whisper-hissing, “How’s it gonna look if at the end of the day all we have to show for ourselves is a citation for public urination and a found puppy?”
“It’s gonna look like we made people keep it in their pants, and like we helped the distraught citizens of our fair city. You worry too much, Curtis. Probably why you don’t have a girlfriend. Help the young lady! We’ll crack the Columbian drug ring after Christmas. Come on, show the girl a picture of your dogs. You know you want to.”
Without having to be asked twice, Officer Curtis pulls out his wallet, and flips it open. “The big bruiser there is Apollo. Don’t let his size fool you, though. He’s a teddy bear.”
From what I could tell, Apollo could fit in a loaf pan and probably didn’t weigh 10 pounds soaking wet.
“And here’s a picture of the girls, Aretha and Tina, from last Christmas.”
“Lemme see,” Scrivello said, craning his neck. “Ah yeah, that’s when we took ‘em to see Santa Claus and hang out at the senior center.”
I feel a surge of adrenaline. These men love dogs. Maybe there’s hope I could find Huddie today. “Please, Officer Curtis? Help me find Hudson.”
“Oh, all right. You’re in this, too, Scrivello.” He puts his phone away, and takes his pad out again, letting out a big sigh.
“Name and description of the missing person?” he asks me, pen poised.
“Atta boy, Curtis,” Scrivello says. “Never fear, lady. You have the finest of New York’s finest on the job.”
My heart lifts, and I begin to tell the story. “Hudson Bell. He weighs about 22 pounds, his hair is smooth and wiry…”
“What color?”
“Pretty much every color a dog can be… he has a pointy face, and bright eyes…”
“Do you have a photograph?”
“I do on my phone… wait!” I root in my backpack where I’d shoved the leash and cardboard the elf had given me. It was a picture frame, and inside was a fabulous photo of Hudson all decked out in his elfwear. “Here he is. That’s my Hudson,” I say, with a little crack in my voice.
“Aww…” Scrivello says. “He’s a cutie. Looks like he’s smiling for the camera.”
Curtis takes a long hard look at the photo, as if he’s memorizing every detail. Meeting my eyes, he says, sincerely, “I’m going to do everything in my power to find your dog, Miss.”
In no time, we are combing the south side of the park, the way the police officers had been trained to do for a missing person. I look at my watch. It’s still morning. The sun is shining. I feel a smile spread across my face. Hudson and I would be safe and warm at home by lunchtime. Dinnertime at the latest.
*****
“Sit down there,” Officer Curtis, or Craig as I now knew him, said to me, motioning to a park bench around Central Park West. “You need some water. You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t slow down. That won’t do you or Hudson any good at all.”
New York starts getting dark in the winter at about four thirty in the afternoon. We’re sitting in the ever-increasing blackness, and I have no clue what time it was. The only real light is coming from the twinkling snowflake decorations on the west side of the Natural History Museum. My feet are throbbing, and I am so frozen through I can’t feel my limbs anymore. Still, Hudson’s out there alone somewhere in the city. I can’t just give up. He needs me.
“You want a hot dog?” Craig calls from the steaming cart half a block from where I sat. I shake my head no. We’d been all over the south side of the park, east and west. The officers had radioed all their friends on beats on the north side with Hudson’s description, and they sent a report in to the station. There’s was nothing left to do.
“Drink this,” Craig said, handing me a bottle of water. He munches hungrily into his hot dog. “Listen, Charlotte, you need to go home and get some rest. Hudson has an identity chip. Someone will probably find him and bring him into a vet, or he could wind up at the pound. The first thing they do is scan. Plus, we have all kinds of people out there looking for him now. I’d keep on going, but my Moms has Bingo night at her church, and I promised I’d go home and take care of our dogs. There’s a houseful. We have three fosters right now, on top of our own three.” He chuckled. “This one, I call her Fang, is a puppy and she can’t stop gnawing on me with those little needly teeth.”
I think about how little and frail Hudson was when I brought him home, and tears pool in my eyes. I will myself not to cry.
“No, of course you need to go. You aren’t even on the clock.” I turn my back and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for everything. You’ve been amazing.”
He stands up. “Well, I’m not done. I’ll make some calls, and tomorrow Scrivello and I will keep looking and asking around. Plus, we scanned that photo of yours, and my crew at the station’s been passing it around to the other precincts. I have your card, and you have mine.” He wads up the paper from his hot dog, and takes a step toward the 86th Street subway station. “Don’t worry. As a cop, I see things like this work out lots of times.”
And the other times? I think to myself. I need to be alone. I can’t feel all of this in front of someone I’d just met. To be honest, I can’t feel this much in front of anyone. I’m more comfortable being alone when things are going badly. It’s what I’m used to. “Go!” I tell him, forcing a smile. “It’s all going to work out.”
“Sure it is,” he said, smiling back. “You go home, now, and call all your friends and family. The more people you got working, the sooner you’ll find that dog of yours.”
“Right!” I said brightly. My gut feels hollow as I take mental inventory of my friends and family. Apart from my online friends, Charlotte’s chefs, there was… Aunt Miranda. And, of course, Hudson.
“Will do. I’m fine. Go home and take care of your pups.” I make myself start crossing the street toward the west side, so he could feel free to go.
“Alright then. You have a good night, Charlotte, and keep the faith.”
“I will!”
I watch him disappear up the block before I let my body sag. I know I have to get home and take some kind of action, but every step feels like dragging a bag of lead weights without my furry little friend by my side. I plod on. There’s a little dog out there who needs help, and I’m the one to help him. Just like before, just like when he came to me. He’s mine and I’m his.
When I finally reach my building and start up the stairs of my brownstone, I feel the loneliness right down to my bones. It’s like climbing Everest. I know why. When I open my apartment door, I know there will be nothing there to greet me but darkness and silence.
