Several years ago, I was walking Jack, my dog, around the neighbourhood one night. Near us, by the entrance to the mall, a dog ran across the road. I could see 
something dragging behind him. We caught up with him. A friendly young black Lab mix, dragging a leash.
The handle end of the leash was looped around his neck, like a make-shift collar. The mall hadn’t closed that long before, so I wondered if someone had left him tied outside and he’d got loose. He came along with Jack and me, happy happy. So we went around the area, looking for anyone outside, anyone who might know where he lived. It was a nice summer evening, so some people were outside. Nobody knew where he’d come from. No one had seen him before.
I brought him home. He ate, then wanted to play. He picked up one of Jack’s toys. Jack growled. He dropped the toy. What a good dog! A cat hissed at him when he tried to play with her, so he backed off. So he played with me. He seemed to have manners, but also the harebrained enthusiasm of a young Lab. I called him Pickle – it seemed a silly name for a silly dog.
At bedtime, he jumped up on the bed. Jack wasn’t having that – he didn’t sleep on the bed and he wasn’t happy about another dog up there. But Pickle wouldn’t take the hint and stay on the floor. So I came downstairs to the couch, with 
both dogs. Then the floor. Pickle jumping, wrestling, squirming until dawn. Trying to sleep, thinking that people who successfully raise Labs from puppyhood should get a special medal of courage.
I was exhausted next day. Jim said what are we going to do with him? Take him to the pound, I said. Somebody will claim him. I can’t go through another day and night like that. So Jim did. I watched Pickle happily get in the van to go for a car ride and I cried for him. But I really believed somebody would be looking for him.
Put up signs about him, saying to call us or the pound. Nobody called us. Jim called the pound a couple days later; he was still there. We never called again. I don’t know what happened to Pickle. At the time, I didn’t know if St. 
Thomas Animal Control killed unclaimed or unadopted animals. With Pickle there, I didn’t want to know.
I hope his owner found him. If not, I hope he was pulled out by a rescue group. I hope he wasn’t gassed to death. But I don’t know. I don’t know how long he stayed in a small cage, having to live in his own waste. All I do know about him is that he was a sweet, boisterous dog who had brains and quickly learned good manners.
I’ve never taken another animal to the pound. I also hope I will not find strays because I don’t know what to do with them. I still think about Pickle, especially when I see male adult black Labs mixed maybe with Shepherd. I wonder if – hope – he’s Pickle.
The female adult Lab cross (top) is posted on the St. Thomas ACC site as being at the pound. One of the Lab pups in the 2nd picture was posted Aug. 30th (then older) as lost on the St. Thomas ACC lost & found page. The 3rd photo is of Clinton, available for adoption from All Breed Canine Rescue.
