We were privileged to encounter two rainbows over the weekend.
Rainbow number one was an actual rainbow, faintly draped over the shopping center just north of Modiin. It was made possible by the season’s first real rainfall. The rain shower was brief, but heavy; I remarked later that after five months without precipitation, five minutes of rain feels like a long time.
(The kids somehow think that those five minutes mean they can run an unlimited amount of water in the sink. Um, no.)
Rainbow number two was an unexpected but very special Shabbat guest, Keshet the little black dog. Keshet means “rainbow” in Hebrew, and I am not quite sure what to make of that name choice. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Remember this dog?
After fetching AM from gan on Friday, I spotted her nosing around our building’s entrance–someone had propped the door open. Once again, she had a red harness but no tags. I buzzed up to Taxman, who came down and recognized her immediately. She trotted off towards the park, the opposite direction to where we thought she belonged; Taxman gave chase and brought her upstairs.
We realized a couple of things. First, she wasn’t a puppy. She was just small. Second, she was incredibly friendly and good with kids; definitely a family dog. We knew that she should have an identifying microchip implanted (a requirement for registered pets in Israel), but we had to find someone to read it. I immediately made some calls, and we traipsed halfway across the city to get the chip read. The vet we saw gave us her chip number, but issued only vague instructions as to what to do next. By this time it was close to 2:00 on Friday afternoon. Shabbat started at 4:55. There was no way that anyone would be at city hall to help. We tried to call another vet, whose office is very close by, with the thought that he might recognize her–but there was no answer.
There was nothing else to do but wait. We fed her some people food (tuna fish and rice) and acquired some dog food from Maimo’s mommy and daddy. I braided a leash out of twine.
She was a happy presence, readily agreeing to go out for a walk (we didn’t know how to interpret standing by the door and didn’t want to make a mistake). She loitered near the table as we ate dinner, then curled up on an old beach towel as I drank tea and we played cards. She slept peacefully all night in the living room, until AM darted in at a quarter after six demanding to know where she was.
Unsure about leaving her for a long time in our apartment, we took her along with us to lunch. It was a long walk for short-legged creatures–AM got a ride–and when we returned home she settled in next to me for a serious nap as I read my book. It was quite the tableau: Miss M and me reading, AM and Taxman napping, snuggly dog snuggling.
Um. Uh-oh. I had admonished Taxman not to get attached; we had been telling the kids every five minutes that we were going to find her family when Shabbat was over and return her and could not keep her. The kids were repeating it to strangers in the park and on the street.
And as relieved as I was that the microchip, indeed, on Saturday night led us directly to her people, who were so thrilled to see her, I have been mopey ever since. I haven’t lived with a dog since 1993, but I really miss it, apparently. With the right dog you have a content, calm aura over everything. Puppies are work; adult, trained dogs are just happiness you can scratch behind the ears.
I have really a hard time interpreting messages from the universe, but this is the second time this year that we’ve found Keshet. Other than the fact that her people really need to get her new tags…what does this mean for us?
I’ve said repeatedly we’re not ready to get a dog. When does that stop being true?