Two nights later, a Monday night, I returned to the liquor store, and asked the clerk about the dog. He told he had seen the Chihuahua several times in the store's parking lot. I gave him my number and told him call me if he saw the dog again.

He called me within an hour.

I had told my longtime companion about the little dog, and as I dashed out of the house, telling her I was heading down to the intersection, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

I didn’t know. I had no training in rescuing dogs. I had no special equipment. All I was bringing with me was some cooked chicken, a leash and a flashlight.

And a desire to do try to something for that little dog, though I didn’t know what that would be.

I drove down to the area, eventually joined by a lady who saw my updated posting. In about an hour’s time, every time with my blood pressure rising, we saw the dog cross that busy intersection at least five times.

And each and every time, he waited for the speeding cars to go by. But he remained quite skittish and as he crossed the side of the street to where we were watching from distance. He would not let us get near him.



