I was reminded of the dog down the lane.
I could never say we were on good terms. He gave me the courtesy of acknowledging me by not barking when I went by and the few times we came face to face he wagged his tail, which I took as his way of tolerating me.
He wasn’t what you’d call a handsome dog; nature had dealt him a blow in the looks department. He was more your ‘Heinz’ variety.
One day I heard a terrible row and came out to find him on the path, his throat bleeding.
I picked him up, he didn’t object, just glad someone came to his aid.
His owner was beside herself. The dog was her life. We rushed him to the vet. Somehow he survived.
Nowadays he is doing well. Wags his tail at me, even let’s me give him a pat.