So the other day I thought I was a hero. You see, I rescued a dog. Me! Not B, but me! Me!
I was driving to meet my family for breakfast when I noticed a small Yorkie in the grass by the road. I waited a minute to see if there was an owner nearby. When one didn't appear, I rounded the corner and got out of my car.
The dog was excited to see me and she had tags. What a score, I thought! I can just quickly return her to her owners. Unfortunately, there were no owner info on the tags, only shot info and she appeared to be very far from home. I scooped her up and off we went.
She had no chip when scanned by the vet. They called her vet, but it was closed for another half hour. I decided to take her home to get her some water. It was then that my neighbor pulled up and said "THANK GOD!"
It was his father's dog that he was watching.
I "rescued" my neighbor's dog.
How was I supposed to know? Well, in that moment of revelation, a few things collided in my mind at once:
- B told me the neighbor was watching his dad's dog and that Nevada was obsessed with it, but when I asked him what kind he only said "small."
- My neighbor was out when I left the house in his backyard.
- The dog was on his property outside the backyard.
- I briefly thought about asking the neighbor if he knew whose dog it was, but just figured it was too far from home for him to know.
Lesson learned? Only dogs that do not need help will approach me.