I was startled, but he didn’t act aggressive or nervous. He simply walked up at an angle from the street and fell into stride beside me. He wore a collar and tags, but I had two fists full of mail, so I continued on my way, intending to look at his ID when my hands were free. When I stopped to put mail in a slot, he paused and waited beside me. If I took more than a few seconds, he quietly sat down and surveyed the neighborhood around us. He seemed to pay no particular attention to anything, either by sniffing or “marking.” He was simply out for a walk, and apparently he had decided to share it with me for a while. In a way it was flattering, the way he waited for me. With the neighborhood under his constant surveillance, I had my own canine bodyguard. He stood tall and slender, with the gray and white markings of a husky. There was an athletic elegance in his movement, a confidence in his light-footed stride, leaving no doubt that he was quite capable of taking care of himself.
