I had a run-in this week that reminded me of just how important it is for your dog to have ID on him at all times. Walking Gwynn towards a park, we found a dog running loose through the street (the busy, busy street), foot-loose, fancy (and collar) free, nary an owner in sight.
It figures, of course, that I didn’t have my phone on this walk. It’s too bad, because this dog was GORGEOUS. A
wirecoat Jack Russell Terrier or Jack Russell mix, he was white with faint black specks under the surface – he looked like a cookies and cream bar.
Not only pretty, but very friendly. Many sites providing information about lost dogs warn that they are likely to be nervous of you and unwilling to approach – not this guy. He was springy and delighted to find a new person and dog to hang out with for a while. I knocked on doors, and he followed happily, answering when I called him away from the road, and jumping around like he was built on springs.
The man who finally answered his door (apparently, 5ish is not the time to go door-to-door in my neighbourhood) got a surprise, as Jumpy (I am an original namer of dogs, as you can see) raced between his legs and up the stairs into the house. Luckily, he was a dog owner, and not overly upset at the invasion.
What I did acquire there, though, was a leash to loop around his neck – that made it much easier to keep him off the
road and out of traffic. It also meant that I could take him to the vet.
I wasn’t sure if this was a case of “brief escape from my yard”, or “I’ve been missing for three days, and am now 50 km from my home”. He wasn’t exactly helpful in answering questions – then again, Lassie never got lost, so how can I expect this guy to bark out a street name when he probably can’t even tell me if Timmy fell down the well?
I also wasn’t sure if he had a chip identifier, but I was hopeful, so I headed up to the vet’s office a few blocks from where I’d found him. If nothing else, I could pass on my information and bring him home until his owner could
I’ll admit – I fantasized a bit about this sweet, smart, and well-trained dog being my guest for a few days… weeks…
months. Maybe his owners had set him loose on purpose and didn’t want him anymore! Don’t judge me! You didn’t see how sweet and pretty and well behaved he was!
The vet, of course, was closed – the only day of the week they weren’t open until 7pm. As we’d been walking there, I asked everyone I ran into the same thing, though:
“Do you recognise this dog from around here? If you see someone looking for a dog, please tell them I’m taking him to the vet to get his chip checked.”
And it worked quite well – on my way back to the neighbourhood to knock on some more doors, a woman leapt from her car, pyjama-clad, and sprinted towards me. She’d found out where I was going, and drove to the vet.
“THAT’S MY DOG!” she yelled, a few times. Briefly, I thought she was accusing me of stealing him, but no, she was just very very anxious. And who wouldn’t be, in that situation?
A happy ending all-around. It turns out this guy was a National Champion Racing dog, with the unfortunate tendency to just RUN if he ever gets loose. I don’t think she was looking for him too long, though even the half-hour or so that I had him with me must have been a nightmare.
Gwynn was kind of disappointed, though – I think he was hoping that I was getting him his own dog, like Stinky got in Dharma and Greg.