Thursday, October 13, 2005

Vanilla, Latte

Looked like I'd need to work late tonight, so I took a break about 4 pm to get a bite to eat and just clear my head a minute. Got an adventure instead when a few blocks from my boss's house, I encountered a stray dog in traffic. Getting close to evening rush, there were a lot of cars passing from all four directions, cars pausing but being bypassed by other drivers with evidently more important things to do. The dog was an enormous chocolate lab. I parked along the street - he'd veer when I tried to approach him, but when I just backed off and encouraged him toward me, he'd wander generally in my direction. From his distant look and his lack of confidence in choosing a path, I got the impression this was a dog who was tired of being lost. You can almost always tell in loose dogs that either (1) they've just realized they're lost and they're panicked about it, or (2) they know where they're headed and although they're loose they're not lost. This dog didn't, either one.

He never engaged me - always kept looking over my shoulder or past me, even when he climbed obligingly into my car. Since he was wearing tags, I had him home within about 15 minutes. Latte's family was very happy to see him, but concerned that he's getting out of his 6-foot chain link fence. I think he's probably just climbing it. He'd come across once of Anchorage's largest arteries and was nearly at the next one when I caught him.

Got home later and then had to head out again for an errand, and down the street there was another loose Lab, this one a very small yellow female so pale she was almost white. She was just plain lost. Shy, skittish. Wouldn't come to me, but would walk six feet from me and accompany me down the middle of the street. We walked all the way back to my house, where I sat on my neighbor's steps and the dog finally touched her nose to my hand briefly. About that time some little kids came from the opposite direction on bikes and started calling to her. She was just too confused - evidently unsure she wanted to go with these little hooligans - but when I shouted down to the kids, they said yes, she was theirs. I started walking down the street toward them, issuing responsible pet owner instructions at 8-year-old's level (never abandon the teachable moment) and finally Vanilla recognized her own corner and her own kids and within moments was trotting down the sidewalk next to the little boy's bike.

Every loose dog I've nabbed this whole summer and fall has been wearing ID tags. Good humans.

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