Recently had a small chitchat with our closest neighbour, Fiona, who has a lovely pooch (if I remember correctly, he’s around 3 years old now). Since nearly all our interactions happen at our front doors, which are very close to each other, the doggo always tries to visit our house, being all excited about the opening opportunities.

This time it was the same, except when we were talking, another pooch, a golden setter (I believe that’s what he or she was, but, sadly, I am awful at recognising breeds) quietly sneaked into Fiona’s front hall, leaving her doggo in awe.

“Do you know whose pooch might it be?” Fiona asked.

We didn’t: we also didn’t notice his owner as our street remained empty.

“Did someone leave the dog without a lead for a walk on its own?” Larry asked in disbelief. “I doubt it.”

Meanwhile, the new doggo was cheerfully sniffing Fiona’s pooch, and they both wagged their tails joyously.

“Hm,” said Fiona.

“Hm,” said Larry.

“Ah well,” said I with a bit of uncertainty in my voice.

As we were going for a little shopping to a nearby Sainsbury’s, we told Fiona that we would warn the person who seemingly lost their doggo for a short period of time.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll find them, of course,” and then rushed inside as the new doggo helped himself (herself?) from her pooch’s bowl. The pooch didn’t mind.

To be honest, I’m very much invested in this story and want to know how it ended (happily, no doubt, but still).