A couple days ago my dad was biking to work (yay!) and came across a dog that had gotten loose from its owner, who was frantically trying to catch him. My dad on his bike helped, basically by chasing him away from the busier streets until he was worn out enough that he stopped running.
We were just relieved that the dog did have an owner nearby. Twenty years ago my dad was out jogging and we ended up with the ugliest, biggest, friendliest stray mutt. "She just followed me home," he claimed. We asked if he was waving a steak in front of her?




Reply With Quote