Piebald dane

My dear friends in Gainesville live in a fancy gated community where dogs do not run wild. I didn't mean to make a ripple. I simply took a longish walk in the dark, which took me down a little dirt road marked Private Drive that said nothing about keeping out. There, trees block the moonlight and hide the houses. My walk out to the main road was uneventful, but on my way back two giant dogs bounded out from a brushy driveway barking furiously and kept barking and bounding when they braked a mere foot from my face. 

I said nice things in a soft voice and stood perfectly still, smiling. I saw their eyes change when they decided I was okay. The not-much-smaller one quickly dashed back home, but the giant piebald dane whose eyes were on a level with mine clearly wanted a friend. Walking along togetherish was fine in the shadowy lane but became problematic when we entered the paved loops of the subdivision. People were coming home from places, and every time headlights approached, the dane loped out in the street to greet them, stopping right in front of the car and tailwagging happily. Luckily these cars were moving along slowly. But residents of carefully controlled gated communities are not amused by such behavior. 

I did eventually learn that the dog was amenable to direction from me as to his movements, at least part of the time, and car encounters were reduced. Nevertheless, by the time I got to the second roundabout (thoroughly lost, by the way, and frowning at my iPhone's googleMaps), two concerned-citizen households converged on me: "Is that dog with you?" Well, technically he was with me, but I made it clear that it wasn't my doing. It had never occurred to me to do anything about it except to not let him in the house if I ever found it again. These folks were not so passive. A nearby kennel was mentioned by one, Animal Control by another, and before I knew it one slim, grey-haired lady had grasped the errant dog's collar (no tags, sadly) and taken charge.

I felt a little like an errant pup myself by that time and quietly toddled on home.  I never heard what happened to the dog. In the fifteen minutes or so we were together I'd grown fond of him. He was so happy and carefree, so well-mannered, and so beautiful! I feel guilty thinking his friendly/foolish walk with me might have landed him in a notorious extermination camp passing as a "shelter." I hope he had owners looking for him, panicking at losing him.