Hello, all:
Today, my tiny family of two got an up-close-and-personal look at stranger danger -- and I can't help but think that our story is worth a reminder to all of you who are parents.
This morning, my daughter and I awoke in great moods, getting ourselves around and ready to cover the five miles between here and Reunion Arena to go and see Barack Obama. As we were preparing to leave, a friend called, and while I was on the phone, my eight-year-old, Sadie, went out to the sidewalk in front of our house to bounce her new yellow ball.
Five minutes. That's all the time that lapsed while I chatted briefly with a friend.
Five minutes.
I could hear Sadie's ball bouncing as I wrapped up my call with my friend. As I was nearing the end of our conversation, Sadie came running in, saying, "Hey, Mom, I'm going to help this man go and find his dog."
It took me a second to disengage and hear what she was saying. "What?"
"This man out front is looking for his little dog named Charlie, and he said he needs me to help him."
Oh, no. No. HELL no. HELL NO!
"Sadie, lock the door behind you."
My friend, Jeanette, heard Sadie, and her mom-dar went off, too. "Go take care of this."
I asked Sadie to repeat her entire conversation with the man. Peeked around the edge of the curtain to see that the man was still there.
Five minutes or so went by before I gathered my courage and walked outside, ordering Sadie to stay put.
As I walked out, the man startled.
"Can I help you, sir? Is there something you need?"
He stammered a bit, then asked if I had seen a small, grey Yorkie.
"No. I haven't. Nor has my daughter."
He said OK, then walked rapidly off, disappearing into a multi-family housing unit about a block north of where we live.
No calling for his missing dog. No stopping. Just heading straight to the apartments up the road.
I instantly felt nauseous. Something WAS NOT RIGHT.
If the man was looking for his dog, why had he stayed on the sidewalk across the street, waiting for my daughter to return? Why wasn't he walking up and down the street, calling for his dog and enlisting the help of others?
I called a dear friend, Jason, who heads our local crimewatch, and he immediately headed over. He drove to the apartment house, found the man and called me back, saying that the man in question claimed he hadn't asked Sadie for her help.
Sadie instantly began crying, saying the man was lying and that he had told her she had to help.
Let me say here that Sadie is a smart, switched-on, astute kid, and she's no liar or drama queen. It was clear that she was telling the truth.
I immediately threw her into the car and we drove to a local police storefront office near our home, seeking out the help of a Dallas officer who is also a close family friend.
We told him our story, and he immediately called for a cruiser to come take a statement and start an investigation. Ninety minutes later, the police officer had taken his statement; told me she shares my suspicions about his actions and intentions this morning; and let me know that they had caught him in an apparent lie.
The man claimed, again, that he had not asked my daughter for her help -- and the police, too, pressed him on why, if he had not told her to come along, was he still waiting on the sidewalk for her return five minutes later? The man was unable to answer.
Let me be absolutely clear. This man was waiting. For Sadie. For five minutes. He was surprised when I came out instead. He couldn't leave fast enough.
In the process of their questioning, the man apparently told the police that he had been looking for his dog for a few days, and had just this morning posted fliers on several lightposts the next street over -- naming a couple of specific intersections where he had taped his notices.
The police were unable to find any of his Lost Dog notices, and no evidence at the intersections he mentioned that there had been any tape or glue on the lightposts.
They've left now, but their investigation continues. They plan additional patrols. They will be watching this man. Who lives just a block away.
By the time we were finally able to leave our house, largely to distract us both from the morning's events, we were too late for Barack Obama. We went from participating in history to filing a police report.
As I type this, I'm scared at how close Sadie may have come to something unspeakable. I'm angry that we lost a special opportunity to participate in the Obama rally. And I know that this fear we now share of the neighborhood around us won't be leaving us anytime soon.
After all of our talks about stranger danger and cutting off conversations with people you don't know, I'm abjectly horrified that my bright, beautiful daughter never questioned the man's story of a missing dog. She was happy, excited, the sun was shining, and she was simply coming in to let her mommy know that she was off on a dog hunt.
A missing dog. He spoke her language. It was clear that he had her at hello.
Thank god she came in first. Thank god she came in first. Thank god she came in first. Thank god she came in first. Thank god she came in first.
Use this story. Talk to your kids. Talk to them again. And again. And again.
As I learned this morning, you can never talk to them enough.