As soon as I opened the front door, I felt a bullet of fluff fly between my ankles and out into the night. Damn dog.
“Tomtom! Come back here!” But the little mongrel didn’t even glance my way, running as fast as his feet could carry him down the street. I stood barefoot in the doorway, debating my options. Let him go? Run after him? As he disappeared into the shadows, I sighed. Well, he did always come back. I’m sure–
“Tomtom doesn’t have his collar,” Mom said from behind me. She nudged me aside and glanced out the door.
I whirled to face her. “What? Why not?”
“I took it off when I gave him a bath, and I forgot to put–”
I didn’t bother to wait for the rest as I took off after my dog. No collar meant he had a chance of not coming back. Someone could take him in, assuming him to be a stray, or, worse, the Humane Society could be called to catch him, and– No. Tomtom could be a pain in the ass, but he was my pain in the ass, so my barefeet pounded concrete and in only a few seconds I caught sight of his pale silhouette sniffing a garbage can. He’d probably slowed down as soon as I was out of sight.
