Today, my Mom got a call on her cellphone from a number she didn’t recognize. She picked up. “I have your dog,” the woman on the other end said. My mom panicked and ran around the house looking for our 12-year-old Golden Lab, Christy, who she found asleep under the dining room table.
“You have the wrong number,” my Mom told her with relief.
“This is the number on the dog’s collar,” the woman insisted, as if my Mom was lying and didn’t want her dog back.
They figured out she dialed “917” instead of “914”.
“Where are you from?” my Mom asked instead of hanging up.
“Norwalk, Connecticut,” the woman responded.
“I’m from Staten Island!” my Mom said with excitement to emphasize there was no way this dog could be hers.
They talked for 2-3 minutes.
“It was very kind of you to call looking for the dog’s owner,” my Mom complimented. Then invited the woman to our Start-of-Summer Barbecue next Saturday.