Finishing up an Easter Day walk with Julia and Genevieve in Moorhead, we came upon a big, friendly, exuberant chocolate lab running loose. Perfectly illustrating their personalities, Vivi wanted to kiss it, and Julia wanted to climb the nearest tree to get away from it.
I put the girls inside, then went back out to check the dog's tags and see about bringing it back home. The address on the tag was literally right around the corner, so I walked the pup - "Buck" - home, where I found this sign:
Going around the side of the house, I tried the door. Sure enough, it was open. On the other side was a kitchen that contained an elderly-looking white mutt (also quite friendly, and happy to see the lab), a huge bowl of food and a huge bowl of water, and an partly-open patio door, leading to the backyard/canine latrine. I let the lab in and shut the door.
So what's the story, morning glory? Near as I could figure,
1) "Brandon" had headed out of town for the holiday, leaving his two dogs home with food, water, and access to the backyard but fully expecting Buck to run off, or
2) Buck had run off, but Brandon had to go, too, and hedged his bets by leaving both the patio door open for Buck to get back inside on his own and the side door open in case a neighbor brought Buck back.
He may not know his punctuation, but he knows his dog and his neighbors.
I'm not sure why, during this insanely busy week, I've burned any brainpower on this incident, but I can't stop thinking about it.