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!