Driven by a curiosity he couldn’t quite name, José spent his Saturday off-duty driving his personal truck to the neighborhood surrounding the stop. He didn’t have a plan, but he felt he owed the dog more than just a passing glance through a windshield. He parked near the stop and began walking the residential side streets, holding out a photo he’d snapped of the dog during his shift.
He knocked on a few doors and spoke to people tending their gardens, but most just shook their heads. It wasn’t until he reached a small, cluttered music shop three blocks up that he found his first real lead. The shopkeeper, an older man with grease-stained fingers and a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, squinted at the photo. His expression shifted instantly from professional curiosity to profound sadness.