I

t wasn't, in the grand tradition of dog stories, what you'd call an incredible journey.

But that doesn't mean the 10-day saga of Charlie the Chihuahua was not incredible on its own. It was.

Because of Charlie, and because of his owner, Laird Foret. Mostly, though, it was because countless small kindnesses, committed spontaneously by friends and strangers, combined to keep one little lapdog alive.

It began May 31, when Foret realized his 6-pound, blue-eyed pup had bolted away from his Beacon Parkway office. Foret was devastated. He ran after the dog, puffing down the parkway in his business suit. But Charlie was gone.

You might wonder about what Foret did next. He is, after all, owner of a software company where employees depend on him. But he began to search hours on end and day after day for 3-year-old Charlie.

He called a friend, Mark Griffin, who dropped everything to print 50 sleek signs, complete with Charlie's mug and the proclamation of a $500 reward. Foret began to post them and drive, post them and drive.

Perhaps it was the painful memory of another Chihuahua -- Pelena -- that drove Foret to extremes. On a day that pet needed surgery long ago, a teen-aged Foret went to a pool party instead. Pelena died. The memory lived.

"I always thought she died thinking I wasn't there," Foret said.

Never again.

So Foret canvassed nearby neighborhoods and posted signs and fliers. Word spread, and calls came.

Charlie was seen racing toward George Ward Park. So signs went up in Glen Iris.

Two men in trucks were seen blocking Green Springs Highway so a dog matching Charlie's description could pass safely. Hope lived.

Sightings were posted on Facebook and Twitter:

Charlie the Chihuahua seen crossing University Blvd.

Charlie was reported running down a highway "like he was leading a parade."

Neighborhoods from Southside to Homewood were on alert. One group even held a prayer vigil.

Foret called Birmingham Police, with little success. He tried to attract media attention, but struck out. But he kept at it, searching up to 14 hours a day, he said.

"It sounds funny, but I was compelled as much as anything, compelled to seek him as if he was a child that was lost."

It was June 9 that he got a call from UAB police. They spotted Charlie huddling under bushes near the football complex on busy University Boulevard. They told him to come.

Now!

And officers talked to him as he came. They watched the dog, keeping their distance so as not to scare him into the street. They waited with Foret until, finally, Charlie crept on his belly into the arms of Foret's girlfriend.

And the 10-day ordeal was over. Foret cried, and jumped for joy. And he wasn't alone.

"Those officers might have lost a little bit of their professional composure, too," he said.

And he loves them for it.

So Charlie came home, scared, hungry and sleepy. He had lost a quarter of his body weight, down to 41/2 pounds, but is for the most part unharmed. When he was reunited with his step-brother, Chihuahua Chip, it was a Disney moment.

But in the end, it wasn't a dog story. Charlie's, rather, was a story about those who stopped traffic and those who called anonymously to report sightings. It was about those who made signs and those who prayed. It was about police officers such as Mark Mattox, Jason Hu, and Canisha Freeman, who dared to care for a dog. It was about those who cared for a man who was, well, just a little crazy for his canine.

Yes, Charlie's story was one of hope and humanity. And hope for humanity. Maybe that really was an incredible journey.

John Archibald's column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write him at

jarchibald@bhamnews.com.