Toby: Our New Best Friend

Toby after his jaunt of disobedience. . .
An adventure on Tuesday reminded me of AM and Sam, although in different ways. I remembered how other teens often followed AM home from school. . .and then wanted to stay. And I remembered how animals followed Sam home. . .and then wanted to stay.
Well Butch and I ran down Sunset, as we always do now that's school's in session and the schools' tracks are unavailable. Somewhere along the way, a dog came out and ran with Butch a while. Since I was ahead of Butch at that point, I didn't see his new friend. Butch hollered though, and I looked back and there they were -- trotting along side by side -- Butch and this yellow lab.
Well the dog was enjoying his freedom, got tired of Butch, caught up to me and ran alongside me -- except when he was trail marking and then playing catch-up. A couple times I saw oncoming cars and I hollered, and pointed, and waved my arms to warn them as this dog was just wandering and meandering wherever. Once I thought he was going to get hit, and the oncoming female driver smiled and nodded and mouthed a thanks.
Finally I lost the lab. I thought that maybe he had gone home. I passed a lady getting out of her SUV, and, just in case the lab was still wandering mindlessly, I asked if she'd call someone -- told her I was worried about this yellow lab with no collar wandering down the run unmindful of traffic and all. She said she'd have her gramma call, and I ran on home.
Just a few minutes later, here comes Butch -- with the dog beside him! I called the dog, "Here, Boy! Come here." And I opened the door into my apartment. He seemed most glad to visit and explore a new place. But Butch protested. "He's too big! He's been marking his trail; he'll mess up your apartment."
I agreed with him, but couldn't let the dog just wander off again.
"What else can I do? I'll just keep him till I call the dog officer. I can't let him get hit. I could never live with myself."
"Will he fit in your car?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well then why don't we just take him home?"
"You know where he lives?"
"Well, yeah. . .I saw him come from a house anyway. . .must be his house."
So we put this now slobbering hunk of yellow fur in the back seat of the car that Butch had just thoroughly cleaned for me a couple days ago, and headed down the road. When we got to the house, I said, "You stay with the dog and I'll go see if someone's home."
This dear sweet older lady came out of the house, a house with a tennis court (no kidding!) and all kinds of farm machinery. She looked a bit apprehensive when she came to the door -- me all sweaty and stinky in my running clothes, and still breathing hard.
"This dog followed me home when I was running today. . .all the way to Turner Avenue. I wonder if he might be yours. He's in the car. . ."
She followed me to the car, opened the back door to a now smiling (well that MIGHT be an exageration) dog.
"Oh, Toby," she cooed. "You will have to stay in your pen all afternoon now." And then the lady looked at my car. "Oh dear. He's made a mess of your car," she said.
"Don't worry about it; I'm used to it. The grandchildren make a mess of it, too." And then I asked if she'd call dog control and let them know that the dog on Sunset had found his home, and she said she would. She was so grateful.
Once home, I collected carpet cleaner, rags and water and scrubbed the hair and dog smell out of my car. Ooohhh....the goobers he left on the headrest! Ick! But I know that Toby made it home safe. I smiled to myself as I realized that I had indeed learned a few lessons from my children.