Yesterday while driving down the highway I saw a little dog running along the side of the road, obviously lost. Its well-groomed white coat was straggly and reminded me of plowed snow three days after the storm. I would have stopped had I not seen a man franticly scouring the woods.
As I approached, his shoulders dropped in exasperation. I slowed and motioned behind me. His eyes turned to the horizon and he too saw the almost white fluffball running toward him. His face was a mix of disbelief and relief as he ran to collect his prize. He had obviously been searching a while. His car was pulled over about 500 metres ahead, four-ways flashing, driver’s side not completely off the road.
I would have loved to have stopped to hear the story of this little dog who was so inadequately prepared for life on the run. Better yet, I would have loved to have heard the phone conversation when he returned to his car with the dog safely in the passenger seat and be at their home to see little hearts and hands cuddle and caress their favourite friend.