This morning, Andrew woke me up.
"There's a dog on our doorstep", he says.
I wave my hand blearily, thinking I am still dreaming. I mean, did you read yesterday's post?!
Sure enough, there was a dog on our doorstep. A small, mostly white, cutest brown spots, warm brown eyes, dog with puppy teeth. And a collar. Must be somebody's, right? There was a HUGE thunder and lightening storm yesterday in the late afternoon. I'm thinking it got scared and slipped it's fence. Our lobby doors are always open and the stairwell is open so it must have just dashed in and kept climbing until there was no place left to go. Andrew found it when he went out to run stairs.
The poor thing was definitely skittish and a little trembly. He seemed to be favoring one of his back legs a little. I put out some water and cleaned up its poop. I tried to herd it down the stairs, he let me get him down to the 6th floor before he dashed past me back up to our floor (we live on the 8th). I tried to go first and call him down, no go. After every unsuccessful attempt, he would curl up in the corner between our door and the wall. So cute, really.
I would go inside and get ready for the day, but peek back out at him. By the time the kids were up, he was coming toward me when I called. I put out some water for him.
By the time I took the kids to school, he was letting me pet him and we almost got him in the elevator.
When I came back from school, he was curled up on our door mat. Awwwww.
Then I had a couple of phone calls. I checked on him once in the middle and he had ripped into his poop bag and had one of my shoes off our shoe rack - whoops. When I just went out to try and leash him up (with our clothesline) to take him for a walk, he was gone. I walked down all 8 flights of stairs and looked around the courtyard, no sign. When I barked at the Security Guard (communication, remember?), he waved an arm broadly.
I hope that means he has been found by those who lost him. I'm going to try and believe that. I kinda miss him....
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