This is my dog.
She’s not really my dog. She belongs to my neighbors. But they have two young children and a crazy schedule and don’t have time to take her outside.
I, on the other hand, occasionally want to jog before I go to work – or come home feeling cooped up so welcome the chance to take an eager four legged creature for a stroll.
She has a pretty good life. She’s almost never home alone, since she has four people of varying ages who love her, and on top of that two adoptive parents (us) who give her a colossal amount of treats and walk her at least four times a week.
When we pick her up, she’s so excited it’s almost impossible to leash her. She pulls with the force of a train and runs maniacally when we set her free in the field. If Luca walks up ahead of me she likes to dash from him to me and back.
It’s a fortunate arrangement: her rightful owners get to love a dog who has become a member of their family. We get to borrow a dog we only have to walk. The dog gets all of us.