The one where I saved a dog
I cycle to work on a mountain bike each day. The first half of the journey takes me through the centre of the town – doing battle with the school run traffic – and the second half takes me off into the countryside, and into a country estate. The journey is about 3 miles, door to door, and takes anything from ten minutes, to twenty, depending on how fast my legs feel like they can make me go on a given day.
The entrance to the country estate is a long and winding single-lane road that passes between several fields, and a couple of houses before arriving at a gateway, and what I presume would have been the grounds-keeper's cottage in decades past (the entire estate wouldn't look out of place in Downton Abbey).
On approach to the gate house this morning I passed an elderly golden labrador, stood in the middle of the road, minding his own business. He didn't show any interest in me, and I passed quietly by without incident – but by the time I reached the gate and looked back, questions were running around my head – where is his owner? Does he look like he knows where he's going? Should I just leave him, or do I do something? I stood at the gate, looking back at him, wondering what to do.
While wondering, he looked around at me, and let out a gargantuan woof, before lurching in my direction, and doing his best approximation of a gallop (he wasn't skinny). Ok then. So you've made my mind up for me – I'm going to have to do something.
He raced up to me with his tail whirling like a broken helicopter, tongue dangling from his mouth, and crashed into my legs like I was his favourite armchair. I fussed his head while digging around his neck for his collar, and – YES – a disc with phone numbers on it.
First number – no answer. Second number – no answer. Try the first number again. Success!
After a brief conversation with an american man's accent on the other end of the phone, we figured out the dog came from the gate house, so I wandered back up the road, holding his collar, and awaited their appearance.
Only they didn't appear. It was obvious there was nobody in. I called again, and this time a lady answered the phone. They were on their way. Two minutes.
While biding my time I made friends with the dog, although he seemed much more interested in watching a group of walkers wander by with their dogs. He desperately wanted to run after them, but I ruined his fun entirely. I asked him to sit, and almost unbelievably he did so – and then resumed leaning against my legs.
A minute later a car appeared around the nearest bend in the road, with a middle-aged couple grinning at us.
“We're so sorry! He keeps breaking out!”
“It's fine”
I released the dog, and he resumed helicopter tail mode as he swaggered up to his Mom, and I said my goodbyes.
Good deed for the day? Done.