Cleopatra, Queen of the Night

Today’s story is one of heroism. Well, loosely about heroism. It is about how a stranger (me) saved a small pooch from uncertain death:

W, A and I were out walking to Toasty’s so they could buy lunch. I needed to mail something so I tagged along. And it was lucky I did, for there on the corner of Seventh and 21st, a drama of less-than-epic proportions played out.

We were just crossing 21st when we saw an older woman on the corner preparing to cross, even as the walk sign hand was beginning to blink. She had a small dog who was in the process of escaping from his collar. The woman was trying to pull the pooch across the street and clearly the pooch did not want to go. Swoosh! Off came the collar. Panic raced across the woman’s face. The leash dangled from her hands. The pooch stood free of any earthly ties. Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, free at last!

But wait … what is this?!

A heroic stranger (me) swooped in and scooped up the doggy, possibly saving it from the oncoming traffic. The older woman thanked the stranger profusely while putting the dog’s collar back on. She kept saying thank you, then asked the stranger if she lived around here. The stranger said, no, I work around here. Then she said she lives right there [gestures at a building on the corner] in 1212 -- just come by any time and ask for her, Cleopatra Queen of the Night.

I swear to God that is what she said. And the thing is, you would have never expected Cleopatra Queen of the Night to look like your favorite great aunt. Or maybe you would …

Until Thursday, my pets!