Pet safety is no joke, my friend. And no one understands this more than a little dachshund by the name of Lilly. I found her in the middle of Yew street while I was driving to Steven's house the other day.
"Little dog, little dog, why do you linger in this dangerous location? Are you lost? It is well past nightfall and you seem quite alone," I called when I approached the dog.
Those might not be the exact words, but I can't quite remember. It was something quite similar to that, though.
Poor little Lilly was so scared, and when I pulled over, she leapt right into my car and sat on my lap, all shaky and shiver-y. She had a tag, which said she lived on Lopez Island. Since I was not on Lopez Island, or any island, I concluded that Lilly was far from home.
I called the number on her tag, and it reached someone, but it was not Lilly's owner. It was Lilly's owner's mom's renter. So long story short, I eventually tracked down her owner, who was visiting her boyfriend not to far from where we were.
I returned Lilly to her family, and bid them goodnight, reminding them that pet safety is no joke.
So now that I am literally a hero, I was thinking of adding a title to my name. Like, "Madam" or "The Revered."