Milo Unleashed

My dog always hated me.

I guess that's fair enough, because he's not my dog, not really. He's my Dad and stepmom's dog, a puppy they adopted and brought into their lives in a bid to replace the child they never had. They named him Milo, after the popular chocolate-malt beverage, and Milo was very, very spoiled.

He wore clothes much more expensive than mine and his monthly haircuts cost top dollar. His favorite food was high-quality ground beef, and when that wasn't available he sometimes deigned to eat $30 designer dog food.

Yes, Milo was a very spoiled dog, but more than that he was very aloof. Milo is a lhasa apso, you see, an old and uncommon dog breed from Tibet. Legends say that the lhasa were bred specifically to watch over Tibetan monks meditating in high mountain temples. Perhaps his watchdog's breeding was what contributed to his aloofness, because Milo never warmed up to me. He often gave me the side-eye, rarely let me pet him, and never once treated me like family; only as an unwelcome house-guest and intruder, one he grudgingly shares a living space with.

His attitude towards me only changed when I accidentally saved his life.

-

The incident happened ten years ago, but I remember it as clear as day. My Dad, at the time, was a proud owner and operator of a mobile phone shop; and because the only thing that rivaled Milo's aloofness towards me was his clinginess towards my Dad, he ended up bringing Milo to work every single day. And there, in that little shop, Milo became something of a local celebrity. Many of our longtime customers stopped by specifically to see him, to pat his head and offer him treats, cooing, cajoling, and laughing all the way. Milo, being Milo, pointedly ignored them all.

His aloofness only seemed to spur them on. Like beautiful women unaccustomed to being denied the object of their affection, they doubled down on their pursuit. They bought the little dog gifts, gifts like expensive leather chew toys, imported dog snacks, and oddly enough, even a handful of brand-new leashes. Why they thought the gift of a leash would endear Milo to them I will never know, but that was what they did. The leashes came in all shapes and sizes, but they, hilariously, never seemed to fit Milo well.

And somewhat less hilariously, it was one of these ill-fitting leashes that almost got Milo killed.

Contrary to their 'lapdog' reputation, lhasa apso's have to be given daily walks, and on the day the accident happened that chore came down to me. My dad, not the most organized of men even in the best of times, was busy manning his store, and as distracted as he was he couldn't find Milo's usual leash. He ended up telling me to, "Just grab any leash and go." I did as he asked and grabbed a gift-leash on the way out, a red-striped monstrosity that made Milo look like a particularly ambitious lawyer. I hooked it on him and off we went.

As oddly aloof as he was, Milo shared something in common with other dogs: he loved taking walks. As soon as we left the shop he was off like a rocket, his nose sniff sniff sniffing. He found everything he encountered exciting. A loose-leaf on the ground? Let's go explore that, good sir. A plastic bag blowing in the wind? Definitely worth a whiff. It might contain food. Another dog's turd halfway buried in the sand? We should go over, lift our legs high, and pee all over it. All the better to let them know who the real top dog is around here, boys.

It was adorable, it was adorable, it was adorable. The sun was shining, my dog was scampering around, and I was happy and satisfied. I was so happy and so satisfied I let my guard down for a minute, a deadly mistake when you're walking a one-year-old puppy. I looked away for only a second...and it was in that second that something else caught Milo's attention.

I felt Milo tug at the leash, hard—then the line went unexpectedly slack. I turned around. What I saw sent a chill racing down my spine: Milo had somehow shrugged off his leash, and worse than that, he was making a beeline for the new thing that had caught his eye: the shiny wheels of a speeding sports car.

I saw it all, then. I saw it all play out in my mind's eye. I saw Milo's inquisitive nose touch the fender, still sniffing, still alive for one long, precious moment...before his tiny body gets run over and crumpled up like a sad snail in the sand. There would be much red blood and gore, but most importantly, Milo would be dead; irreversibly, perenially, permanently dead, and my dad and stepmom would be beside themselves with grief.

I didn't have time to think, only to react.

I reacted by running as fast as I could towards Milo.

I've never ran so fast in my life. Milo was young then, and young dogs were fast. His little legs were really moving. They were a happy brown blur carrying him swiftly and surely to his doom.

But as fast as Milo was, I was faster still. He was genetically cursed with short legs, the short legs bred into him by breeders who would like their watchdogs to stay instead of run, but this time his curse was his blessing. As powered by adrenalin as I was, my long strides quickly overtook his short ones, and in the space of a few seconds I caught up with him. Still, it was a close thing.

Milo was a mere meter away from the car when I reached him. The car was still moving, still zooming towards him, and there was no time to lose. I scooped him up with my right hand and stuck out my left in a vain attempt to brace for impact. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting, at any moment, to feel the horrible force of metal on flesh.

But the impact I was expecting never came.

Instead, there was a sound of screeching wheels and the smell of burning rubber. When I opened my eyes, instead of blood all around me there were the concerned faces of frightened bystanders. Among them was a certain sports car driver who looked both shocked and angry. "You shouldn't let your dog run around like that, man. I could've killed you!"

I apologized profusely, told everyone I was fine, then picked Milo up and left. Along the way, I surreptitiously checked both Milo and myself for injuries. I was shaken but fine. Milo was fine—and to top things off he wasn't even shaken! The little dog looked, for all intents and purposes, happy. I was carrying him in my arms, and he was looking up at me with wide eyes and a cheeky grin. That grin seemed to say, "Boy, oh boy, wasn't that an adventure? That sure was fun! By the way, thanks for saving my life, Al. I really owe you one. Let's do this again next time!"

I cursed under my breath and set Milo down so we could walk the rest of the way back.

And this time around, I made sure his leash was securely fastened.

-

In the years that followed, Milo and I would go on to make many fond memories—but out of all those memories, the one of his near brush with death that strikes me as the most poignant. It's the most poignant because that was when his attitude towards me did a complete 180.

Gone was the cold and aloof dog of the past. After that day, whenever I get home Milo would never fail to greet me at the door, his little tail wagging and his wet nose sniffing warmly and inquisitively. When I kneel down to play with him he lets me. Sometimes, when he's in an extra good mood, he even deigns to lick my hand.

Milo is an old dog now, and it is with no small amount of relief when I say that his hyperactive days are over. Nowadays, Milo can more often be found snoozing in the cool living room than out in the hot tarmac chasing cars.

I still take him on his daily walks, however, and when I do I make sure to fasten his leash safely and securely. The memory of his near-collision with a speeding car is still fresh in my mind.

The problem is Milo, like any sane dog, dislikes his leash. He still struggles against it, and when I buckle the prison-rope around his neck it is with a feeling of slight guilt and regret. If only there was a way we could walk him safely without having to resort to a pesky physical leash...

-

So that's all, folks. This is my story. The story of how I (barely) saved my dog from the hungry wheels of a speeding car, and how he repaid me ten times over by becoming my best friend.

The story of how Milo, for one fleeting moment, became unleashed.