Lost, lost, lost...

There's a woman who walks

her dog, a pinwheel spinning

on a leash. Whimsy, she calls

her. The dog leaps around

in endless circles, not knowing

forwards from back. And neither

does she. Up and down the street

she walks, always the same route.

But not today. Today she deviates—

lured astray by cheerful breezes,

a screech of hawk in the sky, a pop 

of daffodil against sepia lawn. Today

she spreads wings, explores, reaches

out her finger and rings the bell. A boy 

no more than four answers the door

and in she goes, Whimsy in tow,

to a place she's never seen. "What

is going on?!" shrieks the woman

of the house. "Who are you? Why

are you in my house?!"

"Who are you?" the woman echos.
"I'm looking for Kay." 

"Let's take this outside."

"It's a beautiful day."

"Sit here on the wall. I need to find help."

I really thought I could do this all in a poem all in one go. But apparently I can't. I'm not sure how to bring myself into the poem. The woman with the pinwheel dog is one I've seen several times before. The woman of the house is my neighbour...my neighbour who was now knocking frantically on my front door. 

I was in the basement helping Zoë with a math problem, so Andrew answered the door. 

"I need...a grown up..." my neighbour said. "I just...there's a woman with a dog...she came into my house. John just opened the door and invited her in. And she came in! She was wandering around when I came downstairs to see who was at the door and she was just wandering around! I don't know what to do! I don't have my phone with me. I just...got the lady outside...and locked John inside...and I don't know what to do! I don't know if she was casing the joint or if she's crazy...I...just need another grown up. Do we call the police? What do we do?"

By this time I had come upstairs and joined Andrew at the door. 

"Is she gone?" I asked. 

"No! She's just wandering around my yard. She says she's looking for Kay. But we've lived here for five years. And the people who lived here before didn't have a Kay. I don't know...it's weird."

Andrew and I threw on some flip-flops and walked up to the neighbour's house. 

"Hello!" called the woman cheerfully. "What are we going to do about this?"

We noticed the woman had an alert button around her neck. 

"What does your button do?" Andrew asked her.

"What button? Who's got a button?"

"That button around your neck. What does it do?"

"Oh, this old thing? Nothing. Nothing at all."

She lifted it up and pressed the SOS button right in the middle several times.

"See? I don't know why they make me wear it. It doesn't do a blessed thing!"

"Hmmm...well...where do you live?"

"What do you mean where do I live? Where do you live?"

"We live right next door."

"Aren't your feet cold without socks on?"

"I'm alright," I told her, and then whispered to our neighbour, "I think she's harmless. I've seen her around...I've met her dog before...I just didn't realize..."

Suddenly we heard a little chime.

"I think your phone is ringing!" our neighbour said. 

"What phone?" the woman asked. "Who carries around a phone?!"

Then a voice started speaking from her alert button. 

"Stay right where you are!" a man's voice said.

"Oh, hello, dear!"

"I can see you on my map. Don't move, okay? Just stay right where you are. I'm coming."

The dog was yapping wildly this whole time. It was hard for us to hear the man or the man to hear us. Eventually our neighbour slipped the call button off the woman's neck and we walked a ways away so we could talk with the man. 

"It's my wife!" he said. "Can you stay with her? I'm on my way. If you have an address for me, that might help..."

We gave an address and soon he was driving our way. 

"Boy in an orange jacket?" he asked through the alert.

"That's where we're at!" we confirmed (he'd seen Benjamin and Alexander heading back inside to finish their math work).

"Where are they going?" the woman demanded. "Why do they get to leave?"

"They're just going in to do their homework," I reassured her. "You don't have homework, do you?"

"I don't have homework, no. I have this dog!"

"You do! She's adorable. What's her name?"

"Her name is Whimsy!"

"That's right. Hey, look! I think that's your ride."

A car pulled up and unrolled the window. 

"Time to go home, dear," the man said. 

"There you are!" the woman said. "But...what do I do with the dog?"

"Put her in the backseat," the man said. 

"The backseat, yes!"

While she busied herself putting the dog into the backseat, the man apologized. 

"She never does this!" he said. "She takes the dog out everyday and she never does this! She always walks the same route. I mean, I had the emergency button for her and I follow her with my phone while she's out, but she has never taken a different route. I just...I don't know...I'm glad it worked! I've never had to use the two-way before."

"Oh!" the woman gushed, turning around to face us. "Are you going somewhere?! Where are you going?"

"Well, I'm...just going to go back to my house," my neighbour faltered and, pointing to the car, added, "And I think you're going to go back to your house now, too..."

"Oh! When did you get here, dear?" the woman said to the man in the car.

"Time to go, sweetie. Let's get in the car, shall we?"

The woman seemed confused so I opened the door for her. 

"Oh, careful!" I said. "Don't sit on your glasses."

"My glasses!" she exclaimed, picking them up off the seat. "There they are! You know, I lose these all the time. Can you believe it? I just can't keep track of them!"

"No kidding," I said. "I misplace mine all the time, too."

"Well, where are we going?" she asked, now sitting primly in the passenger seat. 

"Home," I said, closing the door for her. "You're going home."

"Buckle up," our neighbour reminded her through the open window.

"Oh, yes!" the woman said, grabbing her seatbelt and clicking it into place. 

And they were off.

As they drove away I thought we should perhaps have exchanged information, just in case we found her out and about and hopelessly lost in time and space again, the poor thing. Her husband seems very attentive of her needs, but it must be stressful to keep an eye on her. But it sure is difficult to hold a conversation with that little pinwheel of a dog yapping the whole time.