THOR - ONC 2024

1. Dog Gone

Author's Note: This story is presented from alternating points of view, switching each chapter. We begin with Marissa.

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The sudden loud barking outside disturbed my focus on the chocolate truffle display, and I looked out through the shop's window. Humph! Another ill-trained dog – ill-trained owner is more like it. Some shouldn't be allowed to own – Oh God! That's Thor!

I rushed to the door, jostling with shoppers in the aisle on the way, arriving on the sidewalk to see the remnants of Thor's chain locked to the rail. Down the block, a woman in a dark hoodie and skinny jeans led my barking poodle toward the corner, and I raced after them.

Thinking it wise not to call, lest I warn her she has been seen, I ran in silence, seething at the behaviour of youth these days. Near breathless when I turned the corner, I couldn't see them. Hiding in a doorway? Between parked cars?

I called "Thor," hoping for his barking response. Silence. I called again with the same results, and the third time was also futile.

Then, among those who had stopped to stare at me, an older woman in a walker said, "I have some Ibuprofen, dear."

"Hunh? What?" Then, realising, I said, "No, no, not pain. Thor is my poodle." I panted to catch my breath. "A tall, black standard. A woman in a dark blue hoodie took him. Have you seen them?"

"Ooh! What a beautiful dog. Misbehaved, though."

"Where is he?"

She pointed. "In that van."

Following her moving arm, I saw a white van pull out of a slot down the block and drive away. Then, quickly between parked cars to the street, I strained to read its license plate, catching BR before another car blocked my view. By the time it was again visible, it was too small to read, so I took out my phone and shot a series of pix as I chased it. Unfortunately, the light was green, and it continued away. 

Trembling with both rage and breathlessness, I returned to the sidewalk. Now what?

Police. Three blocks. Easier to visit than to phone.

A few minutes later, with a ticket from the machine, I joined the others in the waiting area. The display above the reception wickets showed eighty-nine, and I glanced at my ninety-five. Not that long.

Keeping an eye on the counter, I examined my photos, disappointed that even blown up, the license plate was unreadable. Don't know van models, but from these shots, they should be able to identify.

My number came up, and a light flashed at an empty wicket. After I explained what had happened, the woman said, "We don't do missing pets, ma'am."

"Oh! But Thor's a perennial dog show winner. Many best-in-show awards and ... Oh, God! Two fellow exhibitors also had their dogs taken. What if there's an organised ring nabbing breeding stock for puppy mills?"

"That would be of interest, but it's a long stretch with so little information." She pointed at her computer keyboard. "Though, in case the others have been reported, allow me to record your contact details and the dog's description."

"Thank you. The insurance company requires a filed police report." 

After I had given her these and sent photos of Thor and the van to the link she provided, I asked, "So what can I do to find him?"

"Talk with those you know in the kennel club." The constable shrugged. "You might hire a private investigator."

I nodded. "Who are the best?"