The Lost Puppy in Beverly Hills

One summer afternoon when I was sixteen, I took my usual walk from my house on North Rodeo Drive and cut across the park to North Beverly to do a little shopping. Back then, Rodeo Drive was just a typical small-town street — a hardware store, a bicycle shop, a stationery store, a market, a toy store, and a few restaurants. Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dolce & Gabbana, and all the other high-end boutiques came much later. It certainly wasn’t the shopping mecca it is today.

Just as I was about to enter the crosswalk, an adorable little puppy began to follow me. I turned around and walked the other way, hoping he’d get his bearings and head back home. After trying this two or three times, I finally gave up and continued on my way. After all, at sixteen, what could be more important than shopping?

A few hours later, loaded with bags and about to cross the intersection of Beverly Drive and Santa Monica Boulevard on my way home, I looked down — and there he was again. That same little puppy, gazing up at me. Had he really been waiting where I’d left him all this time?

I didn’t want him to get more lost than he already was, but maybe — just maybe — if I let him follow me, he’d lead me to his owner.

No such luck.

When we reached my house, I was so excited at the thought of having a new little companion that I asked my…