Here's something you might be interested in.
Normally, I don't stop for stray dogs because they don't want to be caught. No matter how much you coax them with treats or soothing words, they take off in the opposite direction; they don't want to go home.
But Tinker was different. As my friend and I cruised through the mobile home park on our way home from book shopping, the black and white Labrador Retriever mix came right up to our SUV as if to say, "Take me home."
We had seen the dog roaming around when we left. But until then, I hadn't seen this particular dog before. For years, I knew every dog in the park. While describing a certain place to my daughter I'd say, "You know, the place where Bear the Rottweiler lives."
She never knew what I was talking about. She was not as dog-conscious as I was.
So what a surprise it was when Tinker let me pet her and read her tag. There was no space number, only a phone number and the words "Diabetic: Medication Required," which almost broke my heart. Someone cared about her and here she was so far away from home she'd lost her way back. Her white muzzle told me that she was up there in years; and the red scarf tied around her neck told me that she was well cared for.
"Do you have your cell phone?" I asked Doug. After he whipped it out, I told him the phone number. What would we do if the owner wasn't home? I have three dogs including an alpha bitch who doesn't welcome other females into our house unless they are human.
Luckily, someone picked up on the first ring. "Are you calling about Tink?" I heard him say. Doug said "Yes" and then told him where to find us. When the guy had a tough time figuring out exactly which street we were on, Doug said, "Just meet us at home. It's space 31."
I opened the door and Tinker hopped into the backseat without a care. She didn't seem to worry that I might kidnap her or hurt her in some way. But then, dogs seem to know that about me. When we were at the shelter the other day, a dog stared at me as if in a dream. I sometimes wonder when dogs do that if they recognize me from another life. I WAS born in the year of the dog and I tend to think our connection transcends just this lifetime.
Once in the driveway, I opened the back door and pet Tinker while we waited for her owner to show up. I know all the right places to stroke and scratch a dog and even a few that work on men.
When the owner pulled up a few minutes later, I went into shock. Suddenly, the mystery of why Tink had been so friendly was solved. Her driver drove a white SUV like mine! No wonder she had tried to stop us. She'd thought her owner was coming to pick her up.
God bless, Tinker and God bless her owner. Today, we all made new friends. Her owner said he's tried everything to keep her inside but she always manages to find a way to get out.
"Whenever the property manager finds her wandering," he said. "he just puts her in his golf cart and brings her back home."
I made sure we got his space number so that the next time we find her running around, we can bring her back home too.
Normally, I don't stop for stray dogs because they don't want to be caught. No matter how much you coax them with treats or soothing words, they take off in the opposite direction; they don't want to go home.
But Tinker was different. As my friend and I cruised through the mobile home park on our way home from book shopping, the black and white Labrador Retriever mix came right up to our SUV as if to say, "Take me home."
We had seen the dog roaming around when we left. But until then, I hadn't seen this particular dog before. For years, I knew every dog in the park. While describing a certain place to my daughter I'd say, "You know, the place where Bear the Rottweiler lives."
She never knew what I was talking about. She was not as dog-conscious as I was.
So what a surprise it was when Tinker let me pet her and read her tag. There was no space number, only a phone number and the words "Diabetic: Medication Required," which almost broke my heart. Someone cared about her and here she was so far away from home she'd lost her way back. Her white muzzle told me that she was up there in years; and the red scarf tied around her neck told me that she was well cared for.
"Do you have your cell phone?" I asked Doug. After he whipped it out, I told him the phone number. What would we do if the owner wasn't home? I have three dogs including an alpha bitch who doesn't welcome other females into our house unless they are human.
Luckily, someone picked up on the first ring. "Are you calling about Tink?" I heard him say. Doug said "Yes" and then told him where to find us. When the guy had a tough time figuring out exactly which street we were on, Doug said, "Just meet us at home. It's space 31."
I opened the door and Tinker hopped into the backseat without a care. She didn't seem to worry that I might kidnap her or hurt her in some way. But then, dogs seem to know that about me. When we were at the shelter the other day, a dog stared at me as if in a dream. I sometimes wonder when dogs do that if they recognize me from another life. I WAS born in the year of the dog and I tend to think our connection transcends just this lifetime.
Once in the driveway, I opened the back door and pet Tinker while we waited for her owner to show up. I know all the right places to stroke and scratch a dog and even a few that work on men.
When the owner pulled up a few minutes later, I went into shock. Suddenly, the mystery of why Tink had been so friendly was solved. Her driver drove a white SUV like mine! No wonder she had tried to stop us. She'd thought her owner was coming to pick her up.
God bless, Tinker and God bless her owner. Today, we all made new friends. Her owner said he's tried everything to keep her inside but she always manages to find a way to get out.
"Whenever the property manager finds her wandering," he said. "he just puts her in his golf cart and brings her back home."
I made sure we got his space number so that the next time we find her running around, we can bring her back home too.