A dog named Grasshopper: one small story to stand for all the others

Sunday afternoon, during the Virgin de Guadalupe celebration on my street, a small brown dog followed us on our walk with our five dogs. We chased him away, and he retreated, but when we returned home at the end of our walk, he was still running and scared. Indigenous tribal dancers pounded on loud drums; a truck with huge speakers blared music for the loco dancers, and fireworks. The little dog was shivering and running on adrenaline. I couldn’t just leave him like that in the street, so I crouched down and picked him up.

At home, I lifted him into a spare crate in the garage, away from my own pack of dogs, the cat, and the parakeets. The moment the blanket fell over the crate, creating a little den, the little dog, whom I named Koni (Czech for “grasshopper”), let out a long sigh and fell asleep. A scared dog doesn’t want wide-open freedom. He wants containment and a feeling of being held.

Later, I tried to let him roam freely in the garage, but he panicked and began scratching at the metal door. So I put him back into the covered crate, where he settled down immediately. Rescuing an animal sometimes means setting simple boundaries and offering reassurance. He spent the night that way.

By morning, I had reached out to several Facebook groups, including Pet SOS SMA and Lucky Dogs Clubhouse. I also prepared for the possibility that he might be with me a little longer, so I might need a larger crate. However, since I already have five dogs, two of which are large and the other three are medium-sized, I was clear that I was not going to keep Koni permanently. If I were unable to locate the owner within a day or two, I would turn him over to the Lucky Dogs Clubhouse for adoption. 

Over the years, I’ve done this so many times: rescued dogs and either kept them or found homes for them. The number of dogs that I’ve helped over the years is in the dozens at this point; I’ve lost count of how many. Each one is the completion of a childhood urge to help all animals.

I created a flyer with his photo and walked through our neighborhood and the main cross-street, posting copies securely on the electric poles. I really had no idea how likely it would be that the owner would walk by and just happen to see it.

Two days passed. Having Koni here meant constant vigilance over his safety and needs. Even though he is a really nice dog, he’s an energetic one, which means his stress about being in an unfamiliar place came out as a kind of frantic energy. The balance in my household is delicate, and it takes a lot of my energy and attention to keep things even. This morning, I knew I needed to find another foster situation, and just as I was about to finalize the transfer of Koni to someone else, a WhatsApp message popped up on my phone.

It was the owner! She shared a photo of the dog that she’d lost two days ago. Yes, it was definitely Koni, whose name turned out to be Azul. Within an hour, her husband and young son came to my door, and the transfer was made. Koni-Azul was so happy to be with his people again!! A happy ending for all!

This story is part of a longer thread that runs through my life — a soft, steadfast devotion to the lost and wandering creatures who find their way to my door. Koni-Azul was in my life for just two nights, but in writing this piece about him, he is holding the space for all of the many dogs I’ve rescued over the years.

Each relationship between me and a rescued animal feels real, no matter how brief or long a time they are in my care. And each time they settle into a home, whether through adoption or reunion, it feels like a tiny light of happiness glowing in a vast and dark world.

Koni-Azul is home again. Today there’s a small bit of good news to share about one dog, a couple of families, and a young boy.

Pet SOS San Miguel de Allende

Perros Perdidos en San Miguel de Allende

Lucky Dogs Clubhouse