Mickey

There are few sights more disorienting than a deer running toward you. I realized, in that quick moment, that I'd never actually seen a deer from that angle -- galloping at full speed down the road, straight at me. Oddly, even though she was running right at us, the doe was paying us no mind at all. At the last second she realized she was hurtling straight at a car, and veered off the road and up into the woods.

Mr. T and I looked at each other quizzically. "Something must have scared it pretty badly," observed Mr. T, as we continued down the road. Ten seconds later, a dog careened at full tilt out of the woods, a swollen tongue dangling joyously from its mouth. The dog was trailing a rope with a chewed end.

"Ahh," we said simultaneously. Mr. T got out of the car.

Oh hell, I thought. Not another one. "Now we have four dogs!" chirped The Kid from the backseat.

"Please tell me it has a tag," I begged Mr. T. "It does. And it even has a number," reported Mr. T. It took little persuasion to get Mickey into the car, and five minutes later we were pulling into his owners' driveway. It was the fastest stray-return we've ever accomplished.

But what gives with the strays all of a sudden? When it rains it pours, I guess.