(Thunder and Lucia take a bike ride in happier times)
Walking the streets of Madrid gives me plenty of time to analyze every message from the "spirit in the dog body known to Deb Perkins as Thunder"and I must say, there are some holes in the communication.
First, the "grey haired lady with bright eyes" doesn't seem to exist. OK, maybe one woman, somewhere, a real carrot-eater, has grey hair and bright eyes, but I haven't seen her yet.
But -- bear with me for a minute -- what if the lady's hair isn't really grey? I mean, I've already been warned that my pet may not be able to distinguish beige from white. What if, he can't tell the difference between grey and BLOND? Luckily, there are fewer blonds in Spain, than say, in Sweden, and most of them are highlighted. This could change my whole dog finding strategy. Maybe I go from chasing the grey-hairs curb-side, to making salon visits to places that specialize in blonding. Below, my sister sends evidence to support the blond woman theory...
Another issue with "Thunder's" explanation of his whereabouts on the night of December 23rd: he confirms that he was indeed spotted 4 blocks from my home on the night in question and then he ran for an hour before settling down to rest. Yet, still, he is only 2 blocks northeast of my apartment? I could crawl for an hour and I'd still be a mile or two away, right? Does this make any sense?
Look, spirit of Thunder, if you're smart enough to know that your presence in the Grey-haired (or blond) woman's life has opened her up to allowing more people in her life -- and trust me, you are the smartest, zen dog I know -- then can you please send me a more accurate picture of where the %^& you are?
Here's another idea: This time of year, each street in Madrid has it's own unique set of Christmas lights. I assume you don't read Spanish (neither can I, btw...), and can't read a street sign, so perhaps you could tell me about the Christmas lights on your street.
I will (cha-ching) get back in touch with the pet psychic to refine her vision a bit. So could you give her something a bit more concrete: a park where the grey/blond woman takes you, a restaurant near by, a metro station, a landmark of some sort... I'm getting a reputation in the hood. The gyp-sies (always pronounced as in Borat), beggars and homeless all know me by name and promise that they will find my perrito! Then they wink at each other and chuckle at the crazy American with the fist full of reward posters.