New guest, new sheets — it’s like an entirely new territory to conquer with fur!
Rounded out last Saturday with a good doggie deed for the week. I was driving back from the park with the dogs in the car. Along the side of a relatively busy residential road, I saw a little gray -poo mix of some sort darting free across a stretch of front lawns. It took me a couple seconds to assess that no human guardian was in the vicinity, so I pulled right over and stepped out of the car. I called towards the dog with a high-pitched “Hey sweetie!” and knelt down a distance away. Luckily, the little gal (?) was friendly and responsive; she leapt right into my arms. I held and pet her for a little bit until she stopped squirming… and when I felt that she had no collar or tags, then what?
Maybe it’s not the smartest thing to pick up a strange dog off the side of the road, even if they’re a little 20-pound squirt. But somewhere in my mind I had the ongoing saga of Pukkie, a local lost dog, goading me to action. I thought that if someone could just manage to pick up the dog before they got really lost and panicked, or worse, run over by car, a long-term crisis might be averted. Since I now had this dog in my arms, I knew that I could at least do something about it.
It was getting towards sunset on Saturday evening, and the shelters were closed. I knew of an emergency vet where they could at least try to scan for a microchip, but if she had nothing on her, what was I to do? I headed back towards my car where Bowdu and Bowpi were pressed against the windows eagerly observing my actions. I thought to temporarily borrow Bowpi’s collar while I walked the dog around the neighborhood trying to find someone who could identify her, but as soon as I approached the car window, the fluffy-poo in my arms started growling. Transporting her in my car would be out, let alone opening the car door to remove Bowpi’s collar, as she would surely bolt out of the car to check out the exciting new dog and would probably get snapped at for her boldness with strangers.
So I just stood at the side of the road for about ten minutes, holding the dog up high against my chest, wondering if anyone passing by would stop to claim her. She’d obviously not been loose long, as she was clean and not really that skittish.
I eventually decided to start knocking on some doors. As soon as I rang the doorbell at my first house, a car pulled up in front, a guy rolled down his window, and called out, “That’s my dog!” Apparently the grandmother, who has Alzheimer’s, left the door open, and Peaches (or whatever she was called) escaped. It was a quick and easy reunion, for which I’m glad.