Prose was (almost) dognapped!
Whether they wanted her for themselves or to sell into slavery, I don’t know. I don’t even know for sure that my suspicions are correct. But I feel strongly that they are.
We were on our way home. My mom, aunt, cousin, myself, and Prose. Prose was in my lap, checking out the train for victims to ambush with her cute eyeroll and magnificient tailwag. The seats across the aisle from us were empty except for one young woman. Her multi-colored hair and multiple piercings didn’t matter to Prose or to me. I was hardly noticing as she and Prose began to make squeaky noises back and forth.
Prose is always ready to get into the carrier for another adventure with my mom.
Prose is unusual in Europe. They have not bred poodles down this small over here, and many people have told me that they’ve never seen one like her. So I wasn’t surprised when the young woman asked where she came from, where we were from, etc. I was a little taken aback when she asked how much she cost—never had that question before. She got up from her seat and took Prose off my lap, took her back to her seat. The train was moving, so I wasn’t seriously alarmed, but something began to feel off to me. This woman was too intense. She was asking too many questions. It was like she was writing Prose’s resume.
Before the next stop, I got Prose back and put her in her carrier, where she’s happy to ride if the end is left open. The young woman got up and went to the middle of the car, where she had a long, intense conversation with an older man. She apparently knew him but they weren’t traveling together despite there being three empty seats around her. My cousin observed her and leaned forward. “We’d better watch our dog.” I nodded.
Prose thinks everyone took the train because she did.
The girl came back to her seat and made several telephone calls on her cell phone, talking low. Then she went to stand between the cars, where she had a serious conversation with yet another older man that she knew but was not traveling with. It was beginning to feel like a ring.
Not that I think they were focusing on dogs. I think they were focusing on tourists and whatever they might be able to lift. I zipped Prose into her carrier and slipped the shoulder strap over my head.
Train workers pause for Prose.
I admit that I haven’t worried much about Prose being stolen. I worry more about our being attacked by big dogs on the loose when she’s out on her leash. Often, when my mom has the walker, we sit Prose in her carrier in the basket on the walker and my mom toodles along. At this moment on the train, I saw how easily anyone could grab the carrier and dash away, immediately lost in the crowd. And there would be nothing any of us could do about it.
Imagining this scenerio gave me cold chills, and I realized that we needed to be cautious all the way home because these people could follow us. Then the girl asked me if she could use my cell phone to call her mother. Again, this has never happened to me in eight months of riding the train with strangers. Now, she’s been talking half the time on this phone, but she explains that she is out of minutes.
I was not so worried about losing the phone as I was that she’d install some sort of tracking app or get my number and be able to do something nefarious with it. I mumbled some incomprehensible English about why I didn’t think my phone would work for her. Shortly, she made a call on her own phone.
It’s important not to be so paranoid that I miss moments like this.
At this point, we four old ladies put our heads together and planned a course of action for getting all our luggage off the train without turning loose of Prose or turning our backs on anything.
Of course, it was all a tempest in a teapot. We exited the train with all our belongings intact and never saw the girl or her two shadowy companions again.
There’s a lot to unpack here:
1. Listen to your instincts. Don’t be talking nonstop. You want to hear that instinct when it whispers. That’s how tourists get robbed. Not paying attention.
2. Be aware and cautious but don’t let fear paralyze you and keep you from living your life on your own terms.
3. If you read to this point you are living proof that . . . dog stories are popular. If you have one to write, do it.
4. Stories are everywhere. I could write a whole novel right now about a dognapping. Even though, in fact, the whole thing might have been my imagination.
Finding our stories . . . and ourselves.
Alison