My humans had gone on a special shopping trip, leaving me in charge, as usual. I was sitting dozing by the front gate, when, suddenly, I became aware of a stranger. A thin, scrawny dog, who was not so much walking as he was staggering towards me.

“Please could I just sit here for a little while,” he said. “I am too tired, weak and hungry to go any further. I forget the last time I had a really good sleep, or, come to that, a good meal. I am neither lost, nor looking for a job. I am just a dog in transit, with sore paws. My name is Roger.”

“Of course you may rest here, Roger,” I replied. “We are used to people just dropping in. Even that duck you can hear quacking on my pond is in transit. May I ask how you come to be in this state?”

The stranger slowly lowered himself into a resting position before telling me his story.

He was from a good home in a big town. He had been well looked after, given plenty of food and a nice place to sleep. His human family had been kind and considerate. He had no complaints against them at all. The two younger humans would often take him for a walk. Sometimes they went to a park for a romp or a game.

One day, they had been playing the game the humans call ‘hide and seek.’ Roger had been hiding when he was given a nice sniffing tidbit by a human he had never seen before. Almost straight away he had felt dizzy and unable to stand. He had fallen over. The next thing that he could remember was waking up in a strange place.

It was small and dark, with a hard concrete floor. The only light was from a small opening set high in the wooden door. The door formed one wall of the kennel, and was just large enough to fit a human.

After a while the door opened and a human came in carrying a dish of water and some food.

“I had a drink, and felt a lot better for it,” Roger said. “When I looked out through the open door I could see I was in one of many small wire enclosures. A young dog in the one next to me was whimpering. I asked what was going on.”

“We have been dog-napped,” he said. “I was bought here yesterday when the shadows were getting short. You arrived later, the shadows were getting longer again by then. There were a lot of us here. The others were telling me of their experiences before they were all loaded into a white van and taken away. Now there’s only the two of us left here.”

I could hardly imagine such a dreadful thing. “It shouldn’t happen to a dog!” I said with deep feeling.

“The next morning the man came again with more food and water,” Roger continued. “When he left I saw that he had not properly closed the gate. Making sure that no humans could see me, I scratched it open and ran as fast as I could, turning one corner and then another, until I was out of breath and had to stop. Then I sat down and thought things over. I don’t know how, but I knew for certain which way I had to go, and I started walking.

“That was several days ago,” he said. “That is how I came to be here - foot sore, hungry and dog tired, but at least I feel much closer to home. I must be more than halfway there by now! It is most kind of you Floyd to let me rest. But I must try to continue on my way home!”

I felt sorry for the poor Roger, and told him so. “You are welcome to wait here until my humans come back. They will know what to do, all you have to do is to wear your tired, hurt and hungry look. That should not be difficult after all you have been through. Leave the rest to me.”

When he arrived, I let the Boss know that there was something wrong. I led him to Roger, who managed to stand to greet him.

“You poor old chap!” said the Boss. “Right! First things first! Food and water, by the look of it. Then first aid, comfort and questions!”

Roger was too weak to walk a step further. The Boss picked him up and carried him inside.

So, Roger got fed, had some ointment gently rubbed onto his sore pads, was settled down on some blankets, and fell asleep. By the next morning, he was looking more like a dog and less like a bag of bones.

The Boss gave us both a good breakfast, and then had a look at Roger’s collar.

“I don’t see a name here, but there is something much better,” he said. “I think this is your phone number. Your problems are solved, as long as you are not running away from a bad home, and I can soon find out about that!”

He went and talked to the magic bone on his desk. All was well, he reported back to us. Roger was indeed missing. His family had been frantically looking for him.

Just before dark they arrived, two adults and two young humans. When they and Roger saw each other happiness was the order of the day. Talk about ‘wag your tail off!’. There was barking and jumping and face licking and cuddles and treats and bikkies galore! There was no doubt that dog and humans belonged together.

After Roger and his family had gone, the Boss gave me a thoughtful look. “I think we should put your telephone number on your collar in case you ever go astray,” he said.

I quite agreed.

Wags and Woof from your furry friend,

Floyd the Dog

We hope you enjoyed Floyd’s story. Floyd is a dear friend, who lives in Portugal. He is the author of Puppy Dog Tales and Floyd Family and Friends. Collared is a excerpt from his soon to be released Wagging Tales.

You can learn more about Floyd and his exploits at www.floydthedog.com. There, you can join his fan club, and as part of your membership receive a free Floyd the Dog story each month.

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