I don’t know your name, and I couldn’t even see your face clearly, for it was too dark. All I really saw was you standing there, a living shadow, ears at attention, with a distant stare. Although I couldn’t see clearly, I could feel it; I knew you were lost. I don’t know if you had the desire to explore, or perhaps you and your master had a fight, or maybe you were chasing something, but you were standing there, lost in urban nature, trapped on a grass island between two rivers filled with concrete and steel and glass and rubber. It’s very dark, very cold, and very dangerous. Why are you out there?

The moment I saw you, I was struck with fear and regret, followed by pangs of cowardice. I knew what could happen to you, yet I kept on going. I wasn’t strong or brave enough to save you; I only hoped that your primal intuition would get you back to where you belong. Somebody out there loves you. You’re not meant to be alone.

There is hope. Enough time has passed by now that you’ve been able to make the decision of where to cross. It’s late, and traffic isn’t quite as chaotic as it can be. I know how bad it can get, as I drive that way and back to work every day. The best thing for you would be that I never see you again. I will wish and pray that you make it back to where you belong, that you will be happy and safe. I will wish and pray that you will see the sun again.