Last night as I was pulling into the daycare driveway I saw a low brown flash whoosh across my rear-view mirror.

���� FOX!

���� But it wasn't a fox, it was a thigh-high dog with white white teeth and short tan fur and a wagging tongue and energy to spare. I turned the engine off and there he was, waiting right outside my door, very very anxiously. It made me a little nervous.

���� He didn't have a collar on. I talked to him through the glass:

���� Where are you from? Who are you?
���� Are you rabid? What do you think of water? You scared of it? You look pretty thirsty.

���� He ran away into the playground but before I could even get out of the car he was rocketing back like I was the plastic bunny. I got back in the car and shut the door.

���� I spoke to him again:

���� Why aren't you wearing a collar?
���� How did you get in here? Have you been trapped inside the fence since Friday? Maybe that's why you're thirsty.

���� I decided to open the window and pet him. I rolled it down halfway and he put his paws on the glass and stuck his head in. I said hey, hi, take it easy, if you let me out of the car I'll get you some water. He covered both of my forearms in slobber.

���� I wasn't getting anywhere so I figured I'd just have to risk it. I rolled the window up and opened the door. The dog got very very excited. He jumped up and down like a cartoon rabbit. He gave me lots of coy looks and covered my feet in slobber.

���� I managed to unlock the building and to slip inside. I went to the kitchen and got a bowl of water, put it outside. The dog was again tearing around the playground, but he heard the door open and flew back to maul the waterbowl. The bowl was empty in 5 seconds and everything within a 3 foot radius was wet, but I was satisfied that he'd drunk some of it. I went back inside and got to work.

���� Once mopping, I started thinking that maybe my distrust was spawned from working every day with so many vaguely crazy poor people. It was a very very nice dog, and I wanted to trust him, and he was beautiful like italian shoes or something. If my mom would allow my dad to get a dog, I'd want so much to recommend him; there I'd been though, faced with leaving the safety of the car and I hadn't been so sure right then that he was recommendable. He was the perfect size and had a cute cute face, but sharp white teeth and all the flirty looks told me to watch out.

���� I'm not saying people are the same as dogs, or that the dangers posed are similar, or that the poses are similar. It's just that I think in the past I'd have been more likely to just hop out of the car to pet the waiting hurricane of spit. Beth and probably others would thank God that maybe I've been finally gifted with fear.

���� The sad part is I love him but I still don't trust him. Two hours later he was asleep by the door and when I stepped out and locked up, he leapt up to greet me. I nervously rushed to the car, and to avoid having to hug him again while I closed the gate, I lured him about a quarter mile down the road before u-turning and zipping back.

���� I feel awful about that, but honestly that dog should not come on so strong. At least he should try to quench any massive thirst beforehand.


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