Old, as in my age. Ancient.
The pickup's tailgate was rusting over the missing bumper, and I assumed that the driver and woman perched next to him on the bench seat had to give up their dog, for whatever reason. Money, behavior, moving.
There’s always a reason.
And I was witness to their solemn departure.
That animal shelter, one of Idaho's no-kill facilities, is just down the street from the ranch. Our husky-dachshund mix ended up there after an impromptu solo field trip last year, and by the time we realized he was missing, he already had a profile on their website. And by the time I got there, he already had a deposit on him for adoption.
So, this couple’s former dog was going to be fine.
A head popped up next to the woman. Now it made sense why she was shoved against the driver. They had a kid.
The kid licked the woman, which I thought was kind of weird. But whatever. We’re in Idaho.
And the kid needed a haircut and a shave. Again, Idaho.
Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. Not as many rules, societal or otherwise.
And then the kid hung its floppy ears and two front paws out the passenger window.
A few hours later they randomly pulled up next to me by the river, miles away from the animal shelter: a young couple, very much in love, with an adolescent shepherd mix in the passenger seat.
I almost said something to them, and thought about introducing Emma to their dog, but I assumed they didn’t want a couple of foreign objects entering their beautiful orbit.
I probably should have, though.
They’d already taken me to school on the assuming thing.