It's no secret I'm a dog person. I've wanted one as a pet for as long as I can remember. It wasn't until the year I got married that Honey became my first and only. It actually pains me to think how old she's getting — almost 12 — even though she still leads the way on our 5K loop.
We were on one of our excursions today when we walked past her boyfriend's house — Butch, the 3-year-old Golden and neighborhood nomad. (Yes, Honey's part cougar). As friendly as Butch is, he's a cautious dog and didn't come running up to us right away. Only after Honey barked did he come our direction. After a requisite scruff and sniff, Honey and I continued on our way and Butch loped home. Seconds later he was back, leash dangling from his smiling jaws. Never have I been so tempted to kidnap someone else's dog. It's one thing to have a dog follow you on a walk; it's quite another to lead it off with its own leash. I shook my head and needlessly explained to Butch that I couldn't. As if he understood, he dropped the leash and followed us home.
As he slipped through our neighbour's garden, heading back to his house, I couldn't help but wish he ours. I'm not sure his family realizes what a special dog they have. I bet they never even noticed he was gone.