I need to admit something….Daisy dog is
spoiled. Ok, it’s worst that than, if I
see a dog, I'm going to speak to them.
If they look friendly, I'm petting them.
If there's a dog charity, it’s getting my money. And if I see a stray, I'm taking them home.
From collecting lost dogs in Singapore and getting
them delivered back to their owners, or catching stray dogs to take home and
feed, there's not a dog that can walk past me looking sorrowful without them
being given care.
I can be selfish and stubborn, so I'm not saying
that I'm fantastic. I just hope there's
a dog that can vouch for me when I try to get in to Heaven….because if they’re
chasing their tail instead, I'm done for.
On Saturday I had big plans to make full use of the
heritage day open doors events taking place up and down the country. Mark was busy with harvest festival things
so I took Daisy out quite early to get her exhausted and sleepy so that I could
walk into town and go up the church tower or see the halls in town.
Unfortunately just as I was heading home having
made good time I saw my kryptonite sniffing around the road, an old, golden
Labrador with little white tufts and big dreamy eyes plodding over the
junction. I called over to some
neighbours to keep an eye on him whilst I ran home with Daisy to drop her off
and use her lead to catch my foundling (who I’ll now call Fred - just because I
feel like it). In doing so I shouted out
to Mark who promptly shouted back down from the den to not bring another dog
home (pft, like he knows me?).
Fred was so sweet that he let me put the lead on
him right away and after knocking on a few doors I decided the local shop might
know who he belonged to. Sadly he wasn’t
familiar to them so I went home again to ask Mark to phone the dog warden
whilst I took the dog up to the canal in case he was being looked for
their. Mark had better luck than me, so I
fed Fred and tried to wipe him down as best as I could (as he had a fair bit of
mud on him).
I was starting to feel really sad for him and
worried he had been thrown out when a little boy knocked on the door to say
that he was looking for a dog and had been directed our way. Luckily Fred’s owner, an elderly gent who
lived just up the road, had asked the boys playing football in the park to keep
an eye out for Fred and in just an hour about 50 kids were combing the streets
(I love my town).
This was all great news that we got Fred back to
his owner but I am a bit concerned that Daisy dog (or come to think of it, Fred)
didn’t alert me to strangers snooping over the fence in our back garden. I now
totally forgive Mark for making all that noise when putting in the expensive
burglar alarm. My spoiled little Daisy
might not be up to the job!
