The doorbell rings. I glance at the clock as I struggle into my housecoat. Almost 4 a.m. What on Earth?
I stumble down the stairs and peer out the front window. “Tio! What are you doing out there?” She wags her tail in response. I fumble with the lock and open the front door.
A man stands there, holding the dog with a piece of rope that’s tied around its neck. “That’s not Tio,” I mutter to myself.
“Could you help me, please?” The man says. I’m here from New York visiting my friend. We had a bit too much to drink. He more than me. He’s out there.” The man waves to the brush and trees that line the riverbank across the street. “He’s pretty sick. Could you call us a cab?”
“Sure,” I say. I get the phone and come back to the front door. I call the cab.
“Thank you ma’am,” he says. He and the dog cross the street to fetch the friend.
I close and lock the door and stumble back up the stairs. To be sure, I check the dog’s bed first. Yes, Tio is there sound asleep. My husband snores.
I glance at the clock. 4:05 a.m. Oh my God! What did I just do? Opened the door to a stranger in the middle of the night, that’s what. But, honestly, I thought it was Tio out there on the porch. Perhaps I won’t tell anyone about this, but I chuckle as I picture the man telling his friends back in New York about the helpful Canadians in Edmonton.