Find Me I'm Yours (21 page)

I was so hyper-aware now of potential clues—even though Mr. WTF hadn't sent me to Runyon! Here are some of the suspicious things I saw:

And what are the chances of seeing two dogs, in one hike, with totally different owners, like this???

What, was there a sale on pink pet dye?

I stopped to check out a sign listing rules and regulations, and read through carefully enough to catch an amusing typo.

I would have a particularly hard time following #4 as I almost always feel compelled to awesome everything!

I wondered if I would have noticed ANY of these things before the hunt. I'm pretty sure not. Well, maybe with the exception of the pink dogs. And uncannily, like several times before, ever since the day I found Mr. WTF's tape, I saw a message meant for me, whether intended to be or not:

When I was sure there were no clues left at Runyon Canyon, and no dog with a polka-dot tongue to be found, I headed back to the entrance, stopping one last time to examine this:

I almost wept—sad weep for the people who put the sign up, and happy weep that I had come so close to being that person with the missing dogs just hours earlier, but wasn't. I had even started making the signs!

I got on my scooter and hit the road. And then a brilliant idea flew into my brain, like someone had littered it from the car window in front of me and I happened to be in its path. I rode back to my apartment as fast as possible—going maybe seven miles an hour instead of five. When I returned, thanks to my selfish, unthinking, hellhole-mate, and her actions of the morn, all I had to do was add a little more pertinent info to my already started LOST DOGS signs (plus a little white paint over the
S
in dogs!).

Uh… yeah… The reward part? They don't have to know it's not cash. I'll make an art piece for them—maybe it'll be worth something someday? Whatevs.

OH, and the website part?! I dialed my tech wiz brother.

“Yo, Coop!”

“What up, Sis?”

“Have you told Mom yet?”

“No. And you better not either.”

Exactly what I was going for. Bribe material. “Fine, I won't if you do me a favor…”

He promised by the next morning he'd have a site up for me.

www.ISpottedYourDog.com

And if you see the brown fudgy dog with the polka-dot tongue, snap a pic, upload, and let me know where you spotted her!

I had totally forgotten about the giant donuts. The BIG things would just have to wait because I felt I could finally be on to something REALLY BIG.

DAY 9—MORNING

Somebody bought my future husband and me a frying pan from our Target registry already!!!!! Thank you, Jessica, YOU ROCK! The email notification was such an awesome thing to wake up to—as opposed to the reality of not having a job OR a best friend anymore, and not being any closer to finding Mr. WTF with only five days left, and battling it out with a Victoria's Secret
S
model
S
. Although she wasn't at the Bob Baker marionettes. Could it be possible that I finally had the edge?!

Cooper came through with the website(!) so I rode out slowly and put my posters up all over the dog parks in Laurel Canyon, North Hollywood, Griffith Park, and Silverlake. While there, I showed pics, and asked around, but no one had seen the dog with the polka-dot tongue. My last stop was Runyon. I walked in a little—no time for a full-on hike, as I had decided to go ahead and meet Mark's gallery connection at the indie crafts fair at 5:00. But at least a little scoping out of the joint. When I passed the stables where the three-legged goat was chomping on hay, I saw it.

A brown dog. Who looked just like the pic. With I THINK a spotted tongue!

OMG OMG OMG!!! Stay calm; it could just be the monocle talkin'. The closer I got, the more convinced I was. Except this dog wasn't with Mr. WTF, and she ran off to play with a posse of other dogs before I could do a full-on tongue inspection.

“Excuse me, is that your dog?” I asked a cute nerdy arty guy with glasses as thick as mine used to be.

“Yeah, she is,” he answered, then called out, “Lilabelle, play nice,” as she was jumping excitedly on a Goldendoodle.

I launched into the “stori” I had told Sandi about my cousin's dog, but this time added that the dog had gone missing. “Yours looks a lot like his. Here…” I showed him the picture of the dog.

“Wow, she does. Which one do you think is the evil twin?” he joked.

I laughed. “Oh, my cousin's for sure! She's wreaking havoc in my life—well, his life. Does Lilabelle have any brothers or sisters?”

“I rescued her, so I wouldn't know. I like your shirt,” he said.

Oh, I was wearing this:

“I like your tattoo,” I said, pointing to his forearm. “What is it?”

“They're numbers in a connect-the-dots drawing.”

“Very cool. Mind if I Instagram it?”

“Not at all.”

So I did. (#connectthedots, #runyoncanyon)

Back to the biz at hand. “Well, if you happen to see your dog's evil twin,” I said, “please give me a shout-out through this website.” I handed him one of my posters.

“Www.ispottedyourdog.com? That's really smart. I'm sure you'll find her. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Despite almost being pulled over and issued a SLOWING ticket, I got home in time to get ready to meet Al at the crafts fair. S.H.A.R.I. was sitting at the living room table autographing some of her pinup pics. The pungent smell and the squeak of the Sharpie running over the photos in her loopy handwriting made me nauseous. I didn't say a word to her, took the kids out for a short walk, and when I returned, didn't say anything either, even when she asked, “Where are you going?”

Her voice was totally irritating. Or earitating.

I kissed Toupee and Boo goodbye and opened the door to go. But then I remembered the SHIRT. And the TAPES from Mr. WTF. I couldn't leave them at the apartment.

If I knew what was about to happen the rest of the day and night, I wouldn't have left the apartment myself. I should have just stayed locked in my room for a very long time.

DAY 9—LATE AFTERNOON