I was sitting at a table outside my domicile, drinking wine from a paper cup, listening to quail in the hedges, writing the last few pages of my 150th or 155th journal, when a huge black lab/rottweiler mix appeared out of nowhere, bounded toward me, and nearly knocked the table over.
The wine was saved.
This was not a dog I recognized from the neighborhood and I know all the dogs. He had the look of an escapee!
I greeted the beast and rubbed his neck and head. I grabbed his collar and read “Gus” and a phone number. I pulled out my phone and called the number. A man came on the circuit and I explained the situation. He told me Gus had busted down fence and bolted down the road, not too far from where I was sitting. He’d be over 30 minutes. Could I wait? Sure.
Gus and I goofed around and then I used a neighbors leash to secure him to a bumper of a vehicle. I got him some water and treats I have stored in the back my car for just search and emergency purpose.
He wolfed down the treats and buried his head into my lap. He drooled a great dog drool. At last he settled to the ground to rest.
Thirty minutes later, I reunited Gus with his owner. The man gave me $25 in folded cash for my effort. Class. It doesn’t seem like there is all the much class in the country these days. The word never gets used. It was nice to see it on display in such a happy circumstance.
Gus hit the road. I went back to the journal and wrote about Gus. I suspect I’ll see him again. He had that look in his face.