A dog stood, motionless, in the middle of the sidewalk. A busy sidewalk, many walkers, along a road with many cars.
“Where was she?”
His head swivelled; his tail wagged gently – then drooped. He sank to the ground. It wasn’t very far because his legs were short. His long body stretched along the wet pavement.
“Where was she?”
The dog, a dachshund, had been pushed out of a car several hours ago. It had sped off down the road. He had been standing in the same spot all that time. So, she would find him.
His head sank onto his paws, his eyes closing.
Startled awake he looked straight at the toes of polished boots. So polished his nose and eyes reflected in the gleam. A hand touched his head.
“What are you doing here, buddy? No leash, no collar. Did you run away from home?”
No, home had run away from him. “Where was she?”
“Buddy, maybe you should come with me.”
Pulling his ears back, hesitating. She might come back!
“Don’t think so, buddy.”
The dog looked up at the voice, up the pressed trouser leg, the leather belt, the uniformed jacket. A kind face with a 5 o’clock shadow. The brim of a cap shielded the eyes from the setting sun.
Setting sun! Where was she? His home had run away. The day was waning. She was gone.
Gentle hands lifted him to his feet.
“Come with me, buddy. We will figure this out.”
A delightful interaction in the face of abandment. Cathy