Flash forward to my Christmas Eve run. With about a mile to go to the house, a stray dog starts running with me. It came right by a yard, so I decided to try to get the owner to take care of the dog. I went up to the house, where the guy saw me through the window. I pointed at the dog as if to ask whether it was his, and he mimed that he had never seen that dog before. Well, shit. I guess I will just go about my run and see where this goes. This dog follows me like a loyal soldier until I come across a car that is about to turn out on the highway. I get them to stop, and I check the dog's collar. Its name is Tillie, and its owner name is Paul. There is no address, but there is a phone number. They call the number and leave a message, because Paul doesn't pick up. I continue on my run, and Tillie gets distracted by a UPS guy. Good, I think, he can help out the dog, since there really isn't much I can do with my running clothes and iPod to help out a dog. I happily continue on my run until I turn back and see the dog sprinting to catch up to me. She catches up, stays right by my side, and follows me until the last eighth of a mile. Then, it again got distracted and bothered some other people in the neighborhood. They appeared to be looking at the collar when I got to my house, so I hope they are able to find Paul.
So that story is not that exciting, but it was quite weird. Basically, what I learned from the whole experience is that stray dogs love me, and I really wish I would have had a supermodel orgy dream last night, as my morning would have been far more exciting.