Tuckers big adventure

A small but very cute black dog sits wagging his tail. He is delighted.
All around the room, people are in varying states of emotional turmoil.
The dog does not seem to be affected adversely by the outpouring of sentiments.

I went outside to see what the ruckus was. The neighbourhood dogs all seemed to have joined a chorus, but over their barking I could hear a girl's voice calling: "Tucker! Tucker!"

She had been told time and again to always put her dog on a leash, but, she reasoned, she was only going to the trash bin at the end of the complex where she lived and that would make a nice little walk for her dog. Somewhere along the way, a little brown bunny panicked and jumped out of the bushes. The dog, sensing a welcome opportunity for a run, took chase.

Right at that moment one of her neighbours pulled in and I walked outside to see what the fuss was. Thankfully I held up my hand to the incoming car and it stopped just in time.
A small black dog and a smaller bunny raced past her car, oblivious.

The girlwent running after her dog but it was too late. The neighbour went driving around to look for the dog. I opened my back gate and my back door as the dog seems to like the little lane behind us. I have spotted him there offleash more than a few times.

The girl was so distraught she was praying out loud inbetween sobs.
I took her in my car and we drove up and down the streets with the window down. She called and called. The biggest concern was that the dog would go towards the Highway in the throes of animal instinct. He was too excited to heed any danger signs.

After an hour, during which time I took her home twice to check if the dog had returned.
He hadn't. I told her that he would come home eventually and probably be very affectionate
and quiet for awhile.

As we pulled in the carpark, the neighbour drove past. She rolled down her window and called to the girl. "He's home. I put him in your house."

The little girl thanked me and the other neighbour and went red-eyed into her house.

That little dog isn't even remotely remorseful. He looked rather pleased with himself last I saw.

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If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mister Brave Man, I guess I am a coward.
- Jack Handey