Followed

This morning I decided to take a different route on my morning run. Instead of heading north, I headed south, past Seven Peaks and the Utah State Hospital and up into a residential neighborhood that I haven't explored since I last lived in Provo over five years ago.

As I was running along a quiet, winding street up against the mountains, I suddenly heard panting and footsteps approaching me rapidly from behind. On Sunday I'd had a conversation with my brother and sister-in-law about running and about how pepper spray (they gave me some for Christmas) is more for safety around attacking dogs than attacking humans, and when I turned around and saw a dog barreling toward me with no leash and no owner, my first thought was that our conversation had somehow conjured the scenario into being. I fumbled in my pocket for the pepper spray, realized that I don't actually know how to use it, and turned to face the dog in the hopes that I could figure it out quickly.

But the dog passed me, and then veered into the bushes to sniff something. He wasn't a huge dog - shorter and stumpier than Jin. And up close I was surprised by the speed at which he'd overtaken me because he was awfully chunky.

I worry when I see a dog without an owner, but that's only because if my dog is running around the neighborhood without an owner it means he's run away. I've learned from experience that some dogs are trustworthy enough that their owners actually let them out to do their business and don't get terribly concerned if the dog decides he wants to explore the neighborhood for ten or fifteen minutes. So I told myself not to worry about the dog, put away the pepper spray, and took off up the road again.

And suddenly there was the dog, running along beside me.

I stopped and checked his collar for a tag, but there was none. "Go home, big guy," I told him, but he's a dog and he didn't understand me. I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I started running again, and he veered off to the right to explore a construction site, and I veered off to the left to pick up the Bonneville Shoreline Trail to get back home, and I thought I'd lost him.

But after two or three minutes on the trail I heard footsteps and panting and turned and there he was again! By that point I really didn't know what to do. Trying to urge him to turn around or stay was completely antiproductive; it just seemed to make him more determined to follow me. I finally accepted that I wasn't going to lose him. I was about four miles from home and wondered if he'd stay with me the entire time. I kind of hoped he would, mostly because he was getting farther and farther from home, and I didn't want him to get lost in the mountains or eaten by a mountain lion or hit by a car. And I kind of hoped he wouldn't because I didn't know if he could sustain my pace for four miles without having a heart attack. This was one seriously well-fed dog.

For such a hefty dog, though, he kept up with me really well. And he followed me diligently through twists and turn, all the way to my house. When we got there I retrieved Jin's leash from just inside the door of my apartment. The new dog was good-natured enough that I think Jin could have handled it if he came inside, but I didn't know where the dog had come from or where he'd been, and his paws were muddy because he hadn't been able to see a puddle without wading right out into the middle of it for a drink, and I worried that he might have fleas.

Poor Jin went crazy when I tried to tie the dog up outside our door, but my neighbors across the street were nice enough to let me tie the dog up to a post on their porch, and the neighbor kids were happy to keep the dog company, first naming him Jenny (after my upstairs neighbor), and then changing their mind and naming him Derek, after their cousin. I gave Derek some food and water, gave the boys a bone and treats so they could entertain him, and went inside to make some phone calls. Half an hour later as I was chatting with the kids' mother, a Provo City Police pickup truck pulled up and I handed responsibility for Derek over to the Provo City Animal Control.

I'm not going to lie. I felt really, really bad as the police officer put Derek into a cage in the back of the pickup truck. Good-natured Derek fought it and tried to get out, but the officer won. Lady and the Tramp taught me at a very young age that the pound amounts to doggie prison, and that dog catchers are mean and conniving. And Sesame Street made it my childhood dream to lose a dog or find a stray dog so I could put posters all around town. But as an adult I knew in my heart that this was the best way to get Derek back to his owners. I knew that the local animal shelter was created for just this reason. And I knew that I couldn't have kept Derek in my own house or made any of my neighbors keep him in their yard for days as I put up signs and waited for them to work.

But we spent four miles together, Derek and I, and it killed me a little to know that I wouldn't know if or when he made it back to his owners or was adopted by a new family.

But at least I got an adventure out of it. As did the kids across the street.

And Jin, who spent forty-five minutes yelping and barking and fretting that he'd lost me to another dog, is happy with the outcome.