The little dog followed me home again this morning, so after Susie and I once more drove him home, I decided it was time to act. Google tells me that the big gated house
[4992 sq. ft. !] is owned by a Duke hospital surgeon. I wrote the good doctor a letter explaining
that much as I enjoy my quality time with his dog, I cannot keep driving him
home, so unless he is confident that the dog can get home on his own [it is a
male – my mistake], I think he should take steps [the doctor, not the dog,
although Mike may be right that the dog has the upper hand in all of
this.] I shall be sorry to see him
go.
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4 comments:
My family had a dog when I was young, and he wandered very far from our home and got back on his own without problems, except getting picked up by the police from time to time, since in those days (and maybe today, I have no idea) dogs were not allowed to roam freely. So I would imagine that the dog in question knows how to find his way home.
When I was living in Woodstock, NY years ago, I knew of a couple who moved up from NYC 100 miles away. One day their dog disappeared. A week later they got a call from the new occupants of their apt. Yep, you guessed it. The dog was there.
I suppose he had forgotten his key.
It was Woodstock in the '60s, and we were all eager to imagine this magic dog walking down the Thruway following his memory of the scents on the way up. Looking back from the skeptical age of 77, it seems more likely that somebody from the city picked up the dog and drove him to NYC, where he got away and found his way home.
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