I was feeling a little melancholy this afternoon. I did some good things - swam my 25 laps, took my dog and Mags to the beach, dropped Mags back to her Dads to a less than warm greeting from her Grandma. Honestly, it must be tiring to be so cold, but not my problem, entirely hers. I'll let her keep it. I get home, notice my plants look sad, feel a strange level of empathy for them, get the hose out.
I'm watering away when I hear the street dogs begin to bark and a small figure coming along the side of my garden. It's a boy of about 8 years old, dangling a raw sausage at Molly. I watch for a second. wondering, then spray the hose at him so he knows I'm there.
'Have you seen my dog' he asks, she's run away. I tell him no, ask what she looks like. She's big, similar colour to mine, her name is Holly. Cool, I say, this is Molly. We are both pleased that their names rhyme. He says Holly slipped her lead and ran away, that he lives 2 streets over. I ask if he needs a collar or lead for her, he says both please, I'll return them to you. I have a look round, find both, take them to him. Holly is on the street, having a marvellous time going fence to fence and pissing off the dog residents. He calls her and she looks at him, wags her tail, runs in the other direction. I tell him my dog does the exact same thing at the beach and it's quite embarrassing, he cackles with joy. We feel bonded from that moment, and I'm glad I didn't soak him with the hose like I could have.
I decide I quite like this kid so will help him in his rescue mission. We follow Holly up the street, every time we get close she races off, happily. I ask if his parents know where he is. He starts to answer, then says, oh it doesn't matter. There is a pause and I wonder if I should fill it, but he's got it, was just finding the right words I guess. He says 'well, it's not divorce but my Mum moved into a new flat today.' Okay, I say, that's cool. Have you been there? He says he slept there last night and it is, in fact, cool. I tell him my kids are at their Dads this week, that they live in two houses. I ask him if he goes to the local school and he looks at me with a mixture of surprise and suspicion - he asks - how do you know? I tell him it's a lucky guess, and the closest school. I tell him my kid is school captain, maybe he knows her. He asks - is she really tall? I want to say no, but then realise that possibly, yes, she is, to an 8 year old. He thinks he knows her.
We talk about the sausage for a while as we walk, he offers to let me smell it, it's uncooked but doesn't stink, apparently. I politely decline. Eventually Holly ends up on his street, which is indeed 2 streets away from mine. His Dad and younger brother, with the most glorious red curls, come out to help. I try to explain who I am to Dad, but he doesn't seem to mind, just a friendly neighbour helping to get the dog.
They manage to get Holly, who by now is puffed out and probably on her way home anyway. The kid and his Dad thank me about 4 times each, which is just enough, but truthfully, I've had a lovely time. What an adventure, an encounter, a cool kid and a cool adult (me. I'm talking about myself). What a nice way to remember that alone doesn't have to be lonely, and community is mine for the taking, in one way or another. Hope I run into that little champion again one day, sausage or no sausage.
