Craigslist Dog Sprint

How do I know how close the small black dog came to getting crushed by a sedan’s tire? Because I was nearly hit too chasing it across the street.

Two years ago I bought a fancy high-tech futuristic bell plus whistle digital camera. It replaced a basic model of a rival brand deemed cutting edge in 2016. Did I hate the new one because I did not know how to wring out its potential as an overly complex artist’s tool? I sold it on eBay before I found out.

After another year of swiping away Craigslist app search alerts I could not rationalize the new-to-me camera expense. I did fear I was making another espresso machine type mistake. I sold a perfectly good machine in 2008 with an eye to upgrading. I went until 2022 before buying another machine.

The first alert for the camera looked suspicious. The person posting the advert listed a model number and Amazon description for a much cheaper camera than the item in the photos. Adding up the nominal eBay cost for the camera in the photos plus the included lenses, made it priced $400-ish dollars less than it should be. The ad explained that their daughter had used it through high school but bought a better camera now that she’s a photography major.

A month later they re-listed it. After some budgetary rationalization and emotional math I replied that I wanted to come see it in person. In my message I gave my phone number and urged them to text me if they felt comfortable doing so.

Sheri replied via iMessage that she would be home all day on Saturday because she was having her kitchen redone. It would take me 30 minutes of back roads to get to her house in a fairly congested town in the misnomered “north shore” of Boston. I was overly gracious because I give pretty good text.

Her house was a typical Massachusetts side by side duplex with one house number. Her message did not differentiate between the two doors on the front porch. The guy who answered the wrong door was annoyed but unsurprised when I asked for Sheri. I blushed. He did not know it was Craigslist that brought me to his porch but I felt like I was there for an anonymous sex encounter.

In her foyer I was greeted by a friendly black yorkie in a red sweater. He put his front paws on my knee while I gave him scritches. The poor guy ran in circles when the noise of a power saw in the kitchen startled us both. She admonished the dog using his name I cannot recall.

The camera and lenses were in their original boxes. I was nervous. It was dark in the dust free living room decorated in neo-target interior design. I asked if it was ok to look through the camera viewfinder outside. I cracked the screen door and started to put the camera to my eye when the woman yelled the dog’s name. He bolted down the stairs and scurried down the sidewalk.

Without deciding to I was sprinting behind him clutching a digital camera I did not own. My slip-on vans slapped the concrete as my pants began to fall down over my butt. If I had stopped to tighten my too loose belt the dog would be out of sight. One hand on my pants, one hand wrapped around the camera and the strap I carried on.

Two blocks away from his house sweater boy darted across the street with zero regard for the oncoming cars. If this were a movie they would have foleyed in tire screeching noises. I waved an apology at the drivers and huff and puffed behind the dog. He would slow down long enough to look behind him at me and speed up again.

A man was walking a yellow lab and I yelled “Please can you grab him?!” My new dog frenemy began to attack the much larger dog until he saw me approach at a full run. Disengaging from the fight he continued down the sidewalk his stubby legs ablur. My lungs were burning. My ankles were equally on fire.

I caught up to him as he turned a corner and peed on a patch of grass. As I was waiting for him to finish I started going through scenarios where I was not able to nab him. When do I give up? Am I a terrible person for wanting to go home and lay down? How do I explain a lack of dog when I return to the owner’s house? Should I still buy the camera if her dog remains missing? What’s my responsibility in the moment if the dog is run over and killed? Will it be gory?

Before the escapee could turn to see me I picked him up. The fuzzy dummy licked my face as he hung over the arm not holding my heavy pants up.

I had run approximately a quarter of a mile. I started walking back. I met Sheri only a few doors down from her house. She was as out of breath as if she ran the quarter mile herself.

Handing the tiny deserter back to her we laughed nervously together. She made excuses why he ran out the door. I couldn’t hear them over the sound of my breathing. I said “The saw noise in the kitchen probably didn’t help” and she half agreed.

Back in the living room I joked “Wouldn’t it be funny if after all that I decided not to buy the camera?” She saw no humor but she was doing her level best to continue to be polite. I shoved the wad of ATM fresh crisp money in her hand and she stuffed all the boxes in a bag. I left apologizing until the door closed behind me.

I pulled over down the road to make sure that the lenses I never looked at were in their boxes. I emptied my pockets worried that I didn’t give her all the money.

When I got home I took a few photos with the camera and laid down on the couch for a nap.