or: Joanna Is No Nancy Drew
Yesterday evening, as I sat in the living room with Lacey, finishing my dinner and watching the end of The Royal Tennenbaums, my phone rang. It was, completely unexpectedly, Sharif's dad. He'd had a call that someone had found their dog. Ali'i, who is staying with Sharif for a few weeks while his mom is out of town, wears a tag with a call service number on it. You find the dog, you call the service, they call the owners. So his dad took the call and tried to get in touch with Sharif. It didn't work. So he called me. I took the name and phone number of the guy who'd reported finding Ali'i and promised to investigate.
My first course of action was to drive to Sharif's place and see if he was home. He was. And so was the dog. Apparently, after he'd called the number, the guy noticed Sharif outside and hand-delivered the missing animal. But Sharif's phone was dead, so he didn't know that anyone had tried to call him, nor that his father had even heard about what had happened. So ultimately, my contribution to this affair was to deliver a message ("Call your dad!") and to provide Sharif with a phone to return the call. How secretarial!