I did my good doggie deed for the day on the way home from work this evening.
Coming out of the Pizzaiolo down the street, where I’d stopped to get a slice, suddenly this dog shot past me on the sidewalk, like a rocket. I knew it was an escapee.
It was a small-to-medium sized, golden-brown Samoyed type deal. I watched it shoot across the side-street and make a bee line for a man standing by the clothing drop-off bin on the corner of the gas station parking lot. He was a man obviously highly fearful of dogs. Great choice.
The dog accosted the poor guy, jumping up on him excitedly. The man was flinching and retracting his arms from the canine onslaught of unwanted affection. He looked like he was trying to climb up his own skeleton to get away from the manic mutt.
I crossed over to their corner, and looked back to see a worried-looking woman coming up the sidewalk. I signalled to her as if to say, “This is your dog, right, should I grab him?” although I’m not sure if I got the precise hand gestures right for that message. But I was pretty sure I had sussed the situation correctly.
By now the poor, harried dog-o-phobe had made his escape, so I called the dog to me, and it gladly came. I reached in under the thick fur at its neck and found that it was wearing a collar, luckily, so I held onto it until its human reached us, and gratefully reclaimed the furry fugitive.
Happy that I could help snag a lassie on the lam.