Who Let The Dogs Out?

Well that was a bit of unexpected Commuter-Life drama that I hope I don't have to repeat.

I arrived back to the raikway station from work on the train (narrowly avoiding an erratic lady pacing up and down the carriage cracking her plastic water bottle over and over again and muttering to herself) to find my daughter (who was also my Uber)

on the platform bench looking anxious.

''Are you ok?' I asked.

'MUM, quick, look behind you, that dog almost got hit by your train and it's trying to jump onto the tracks!' she replied, desperately.

I turned around to see an old, fat, roly poly corgi cross with something (possibly a wombat) peering over the platform at the tracks in front of the train I'd just exited.  He would lift a leg and make a tentative move as if he was going to jump.

'Oh those dogs can jump really high, you just watch them' said the strange lady from the train, unhelpfully.

I quietly doubted that this dog had ever so much as let out a feeble skip in its life as its tiny legs strained under its overly rotund torso.

Ignoring her, I tried to coax the old fella away from the edge of the platform.  He turned his head and looked at me, a half-glazed stare, as if to say 'I feel like I should, but I'm not sure who you are' 

If I tried to approach him, he would edge further away, with my concerned daughter on the verge of tears saying  'He keeps doing that, I've been trying for ten minutes already, I don't know whether I can bear it if he gets hit!'

The train driver hanging out of the front of the carriage asked 'No owner?'  and then peered at the dog making a mental assessment of whether the dog was likely to step out in front of the train or not.  Shrugging, he got back in the train and signaled to leave.

'OMG Mum!' my daughter pleaded as the dog stood precariously close to the edge.

Figuring I didn't have a lot of time to convince this little dude that he had so much to live for and there were people who loved him (where in the actual bloody hell were these people right now when we needed them?) I decided to change tactics and let out a loud 'AH AH!' The kind that Mums can pull out of their parenting pocket when their offspring is about to do something foolish (and dangerous).

It had no effect, and so desperately, now that the train was mere milliseconds from departure, drawing on my years of psychology training last century, I thought I'd try something  a little different, afterall it had worked on the kids for years.

I promptly turned my back on our wee mate and pretended to walk quickly away, excitedly yelling 'Come on boy, good boy!'  I doubted he would run after me, I doubted he could run to be fair, but I was hopeful I would confuse him enough and his reptilian brain would kick in and he'd instinctively follow.

'He's following you Mum!' exclaimed my daughter.

So I kept it up in front of a captive audience of commuters until the train moved off and he had followed us to safety down the pedestrian platform into the carpark.

I was wondering what to do with him, I mean he was a hefty fellow and if I strained my back trying to heave him into the car, would it still be a WorkCover journey claim?

I didn't even have a leash (or a forklift) and he didn't have a collar so I'd have to get close enough to grab onto one of his fleshy neck rolls.

Thankfully, we heard a 'There you are mate' and we all turned to see a dishevelled mid-twenties, barefooted dude clutching a leash.

Roly poly dog wagged his stumpy tail and ambled happily over to him.

'Mate, your dog almost unalived himself in front of a train' I said.

He smiled sheepishly, shrugged and fashioned some kind of harness out of the leash, wandering off slowly down the station road.

My daughter finally exhaled, relieved.

We got in the car and drove out through the exit, narrowly missing old mate and his dog which he'd let off the leash again, and who was lolling along happily in the middle of the road 🙄