Most dogs give little indication they understand anything you say to them, with a few exceptions.
Almost all of them will jump and yip or come in for pets and loves after hearing anything that sounds like baby talk.
Even “Shame on you, you atrocious little serial killer,” works fine in the right tone of voice.
But it’s all wasted on Georgie the Glencoe dachshund.
Georgie, entering his 14th summer, is deaf as a post.
He can’t hear his pal Candice Kuhnen call him in for dinner anymore.
And when he freed himself from his fenced backyard Wednesday morning, May 1, there was no yelling after him. Waste of time.
“The problem is, he can push on the gate and get himself out,” she said May 2. “I put a bicycle lock on it, and that keeps it closed.”
Apparently, not this time. No lock, no dachshund.
“He’s a very social dog,” she said. “He loves to visit with other dogs.”
Unfortunately, however, he left no itinerary.
After 10 minutes of looking and not finding, she called the police for help.
The dispatcher put out a detailed “be on the lookout” bulletin, which included the Georgie’s handicap and his breed, but not his name.
What would be the point?
The BOLO also mentioned that Kuhnen lives just north of uptown Glencoe, on the 900 block of Green Bay Road.
The main road of the North Shore welcomes 13,000 cars a day. If Georgie doesn’t see them, he’d better hope the drivers stop instead of just honking.
“I was in the neighborhood,” said community service officer/paid-on-call firefighter Jim Almdale.
Almdale is almost always in the neighborhood. He’s the guy who keeps track of how long you’ve parked uptown, and watches to see whether you illegally turn left into an angled space. He stops traffic for the kids at Central School, standing in front of the uptown Shell station he and his brother Jeff, and their dad John before them, used to own. He’s worked for the police department for 31 years, and he does a lot of things for people who need a little help in Glencoe.
And he likes dogs. He’s got three at home.
So he looked all over the neighborhood, including behind the park district’s Takiff Center.
Georgie is hard to spot. He’s not only a dachshund, which is small enough – he’s a miniature dachshund.
If he sits behind a pop can, you may see the word “Coke” and little else.
“And then I saw him,” Almdale said.
“There he was, standing on Green Bay Road.
“Right on the road. And he’s deaf.”
Almdale inched the big police SUV he was driving up to the dog.
“As I pulled up, he went up on the curb,” he said. “Hey, Candice.”
The dog didn’t hear him, but his master did, and she ran over and collected her little brown dog, and thanked Almdale for finding him.
She took a few minutes May 2 to get her picture taken for this story before going over to Winnetka, where the outdoor fund-raiser she organizes, Party on the Parkway, was about to start.
She said though Georgie can’t hear, he gets a great deal of pleasure out of one of his other senses.
“He loves to smell,” she said. “He sniffs. I’ll show you.”
And she put him down on the grass.
Georgie immediately ran into the street.
Kuhnen hurried after him.
She didn’t yell his name.
