The microchip was the first clue. As I sat on the bench, straining every muscle in my right ear, the vet placed the call. Fifteen seconds later -- or an eternity -- Linda beamed.
"They say they have no idea whose Golden Retriever it might be."
Surprisingly, Albertsons provided the second hint. There, next to the cotton balls and shower gel, hung a matching green-and-paw-print leash and collar. Two bucks? Clearly a must-have.
But mostly, it was my 45-minute dog-walk that proved to be brilliantly karma-esque. Three porch-sitting peeps practically exclaimed: "Wow, you have your hands full!"
Yes, I do, I thought. And I'm loving every second.
Pippi and Oskar. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?