Mma Makutsi had taken the call. “She is looking for something,” she said. “That’s all I know.”

“We’re all looking for something,” said Charlie.

“Girls, in your case,” said Mma Makutsi.

“Did you hear that, Mma Ramotswe?” complained Charlie. “Why should I have to put up with that sort of remark?”

Mma Makutsi smiled. “Because it’s true, Charlie. That’s why.”

Mma Ramotswe brought the tea break to an end. “Let’s not argue,” she said. “Let’s get this poor creature back to its home and its people.” She stood up. The dog watched her, trying to work out what was happening; which was what all dogs seem to do, thought Mma Ramotswe. They try to make sense of a world that is full of things they cannot understand; just as we humans do—if not constantly, then for much of the time.

—

THE DOG WAS RELEGATED to the back of the van, where it tried valiantly to keep its footing, but from time to time fell over on its side. In the cab at the front, Fanwell directed Mma Ramotswe along a narrow road that fingered its way into Old Naledi, the crowded poorer suburb that was home to newcomers to the city and to those who, although no longer newcomers, had remained at the bottom of the heap. At a point where this road intersected with another, Fanwell told her to stop.

“It was here,” he said. “I was driving along here and the dog came running out from over there.”

He pointed to a scruffy hedge, behind which there were several small lean-to shacks.

“Maybe that is where he lives,” said Mma Ramotswe, nodding in the direction of the shacks.

Fanwell shook his head. “I asked those people,” he said. “They saw what happened and when they came out I asked them. They said they had never seen the dog before.”

Mma Ramotswe found herself wondering what Clovis Andersen might recommend in a case such as this. Was there any alternative to allowing the dog to find its own way home? Would even Clovis Andersen be able to do anything more constructive than that?

“We should put the dog out,” she said to Fanwell. “It will probably run straight home, you know. Dogs are like that. They don’t forget where they live.”

She parked the van at the side of the road and emerged from the driver’s side, leaving the engine running. Fanwell got out of his side, went to the back of the van, and lifted the dog out, putting him gently down on the verge. Bending down, he stroked the dog’s head, allowing the confused creature to lick his hand.

“We must say goodbye,” said Mma Ramotswe.

“He will be very sad when we leave him,” said Fanwell.

“It is always sad to say goodbye,” said Mma Ramotswe.