Bluegrass

The dog was young, some mix of husky and malamute with one blue eye and one brown. The man driving the pick up truck pulled to a stop in front of the service station window. He saw me smiling at the dog, gave her a quick
hug and smiled back at me before getting out. Beautiful dog, I said as the door closed behind him. Thank you, he replied, still smiling, pound puppy. We began talking the way strangers who both love dogs do - small talk about dogs, who has how many and why. I asked her name and he said Bluegrass.... belongs to my daughter.

He got in line to pay for his gas and by the time he was done I was standing outside waiting for one of the guys to drive me back to work. He hesitated a second then turned and asked if he could me a ride somewhere. She'll go in the back he added, she's used to riding with people.

His name was James and he and I and Bluegrass drove the few blocks to my office where he left me off. It was only then that I realized that based on his being a dog lover, I had just accepted a ride from a complete stranger who just as well could've been a serial killer who lured women into his car with a pretty dog. VIsions of being the next movie on Lifetime danced in my head and I heard a little voice in my head saying dumb, dumb, dumb. But it was done, and he hadn't been a serial killer, just a nice guy with a dog who offered a lift to someone he didn't know. For all he knew, I could've been a serial killer.

There's two sides to every give and take.