Growing up in a rural area, I saw many dogs who, as far as I could tell, were tagless, ownerless, and homeless: vagabond dogs. At times, I felt sorry for them, wondered what they did when it got really cold, and worries about what might happen if they injured themselves. Other times, they were a nuisance, driving our dog crazy by meandering through our yard and inevitably leaving their "calling card" where we were bound to step in it. And every once in a while, I would see a pair of lab-ish mutts running full tilt in the ditch beside the road, tongues flapping out the side of their mouths, tails tipped upward in glee, and I couldn't help feel a little jealous of their freedom, the ease with which they ran, and the silent communication they had with one another.
On our big road trip back to northern Minnesota, we stopped at a gas station to go potty and to nurse Natalie. While we sat there, we were entertained by the visit of a little vagabond pug. He waddled across the street, possibly from the apartment building there, sniffed around the grass surrounding the parking lot, squatted to pee, then trotted to the corner of the gas station where he sat, tongue out (as only little dogs like pugs seem to do), watching life pass him by. From his state of contentment, it seemed that this was a pastime of his. When Natalie finished, I put her back in her seat, buckled Leah into hers, and then got in myself. Just as I did so, our little "gas station buddy" decided he had had enough as well and he waddled back across the street, out of sight behind a car on blocks. When animals like this little guy have personalities so amusing, it always makes me wonder about reincarnation -- who was this soul before he was born a wrinkly, black-faced dog that waddles to the call of his own chuck wagon?
Silly pup. Any of you have any "vagabond dog" stories?
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