So last Sunday on our way to our favorite breakfast diner, my other half (MOH) took a “short-cut” down a side street we wouldn’t normally take on our way into town. It was a very cold and drizzly morning and I caught a brief glimpse of a dog on a porch. Well, it wasn’t really a porch; it was more a slab of concrete outside of the side door. It was covered, like a carport, but not really wide enough for a car. The dog, which was medium sized, looked to be a terrier mix or maybe a mutt. He was black, tan and silvery and was sitting on what looked to be a folded black mat. I thought it must be very cold there on the concrete. He was just waiting by the door. Perhaps they were going to let him in soon.
After breakfast and a stop off at the post office, I asked MOH to go home the way we came. I didn’t want to tell him why – he already thinks I worry too much about such things. He might have guessed, but he didn’t say anything. When we drove past the house the dog was still there. Not curled up or anything. Still sitting in that same alert position, seemingly hopeful that he might go inside.
Now as most people know, I am not confrontational at all, but I believe strongly in sticking up for those who can’t stick up for themselves. That makes for a somewhat challenging combination. I like to think that I am someone who could break a car window on a hot day if a dog was in distress, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t know if I could. I did once get into an argument with a lady about how long she had been in the store after I sat by her car for 15 minutes while her dog was barking and jumping around on an 80 degree day. It breaks my heart though, when I see a dog living on a chain in a backyard (or a front porch) and I endeavor to become more assertive for those that are suffering.
So I’m on the job to make sure that this dog on the porch is not in a bad situation. On Monday morning I decided that before I went to work, I would drive past the house again. It was still a little dusky, but I was sure I could see well enough, so I drove into town and passed the house in question. This was a residential area and not particularly well-traveled, so I hoped I wouldn’t be noticed as I slowed down to peek. He was still there, by the door, his nose in the air. I wondered if he had enough rope to lay down. There were some village workers doing something to a utility pole in the lot next to my target house. The dog seemed to be looking at them, but he didn’t make a sound. I was starting to suspect that there was something “wrong” with the dog, but I decided he wasn’t in distress, so I drove on.
Tuesday and Wednesday flew by and it was challenging to find a time when I could drive by during the daylight hours. I felt bad for neglecting him for two days, but I hadn’t forgotten him, and I was determined to continue my welfare checks.
Thursday morning, I decided to take a few extra minutes to drive by since the morning light seemed promising and I figured I could afford to be a few minutes late for work. And guess what? Good news. Even though he was still there, still sitting tall, his nose slightly in the air, I’m sure he’s going to be okay. Because I’ve determined that my new friend is painted statuary. Good dog, Rover. Keep guarding that door.