Keith Burgess-Jackson, J.D., Ph.D.

1-14-90 . . . About twenty-five miles into the ride I was accosted by several dogs. I kept them at bay by raising my arm and yelling—an old bicyclist’s trick. But one dog, a tan, long-legged pup wearing a collar and tag, trotted along behind me. It was clear that it meant me no harm, so I forged ahead. The little fellow appeared to be enjoying the exercise. A mile later, it was still there, ears flapping in the wind. Then another mile went by. Then another. “What is this dog doing?”, I wondered. I didn’t want it to get too far from home—if it had a home—so I kept saying “Git!” and “Go on!”. It was to no avail; the dog was bent on following me. I must have gone four miles before I lost it. The pup made a valiant effort to keep up with me when I turned a corner and got the wind to my back, but it couldn’t. When last I saw it, it was sprinting through the ditch to my right, tongue out and ears flying. I spent the next hour thinking sad thoughts about the dog. Was it homeless? If so, it may have been trying to induce me to take it home, the way a human orphan appeals to adults for assistance. Believe me, if I had a house and the time to devote to a dog, this is the one I would have wanted. I hope the critter has a home and made it there safely.