Old people at the other end of their lives clogged the streets with their lumbering RVs, which I found frustrating because I needed to reach the fire station as soon as possible. I didn’t know where else to ask for help—going to the police station seemed too extreme. It seemed reasonable to expect that in an area with so much surrounding wilderness, there could have been some kind of volunteer search-and-rescue organization or unit to get advice from, if not actual assistance. I wasn’t sure how much assistance I could expect from the fire department, given that I was only rescuing a dog, but you see stories all the time about heroic firemen rescuing cats from trees. I hoped I’d be able to persuade them, though it seemed unlikely they’d care as much as I did. The fire station, a nondescript brick and glass building with three large bays in the front for fire engines, was next to the police station on Coppermine Road, just down from the Motel 6, where a sign said there was a vacancy.
What do You think about Rescuing Riley, Saving Myself?
