Day 25...

You all have been so great about checking on Thunder's whereabouts...and I wanted, so badly, to have a happy ending to the story of our lost dog in Madrid.  I still hope for a happy ending, but I have mentally turned a corner here. My days of roaming the streets with a fist full of posters are dwindling.  I still yell "Thunder" into any recessed, arched alleyway surrounded by vegetation.  People still stare, startled, like they do at someone with Tourette's, but I don't care.  I've started intensive Spanish lessons again, so I have enough stress in my life.

And I'm waiting... just waiting.

For what, you ask?  For that day when I'm walking down the street and I see my Thunder with someone who has never taken him to the vet to check for a chip, nor called the police, nor checked with the dog shelters to see if their new dog was someone else's.  When that day comes, I will be ready.  I will take that person DOWN like Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider, kicking butt and taking names!  I will execute a kick turn, stunning the dog-knapper, and if I need to, I will twist his or her arms, and karate chop(!)... unless, of course, it's a grey-haired old woman, in which case, I will be careful not to knock her over.  Instead, I will use the formal "Usted" conjugation in Spanish and will say, "Perdona" respectfully, but will then, nevertheless, grab Thunder gently and jog away without incident.

Either way, I will yell: POLICIA!  I will have my forensic evidence ready (Thunder's hair on my tape lint brush.) I will have my chip scanner in my purse with Thunder's papers and, after many more Spanish lessons, I will know how to explain it all to the authorities in Spanish...