How a Little Dog Led Us Back to Each Other

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Saskatoon. The kind of morning that makes you believe in the goodness of the world again. The sun was shining, the sky was wide open, and I had one simple plan: walk along the Meewasin Valley Trail with a hot coffee in hand.

My first stop was Junior Café on Broadway—a favourite of mine since I’ve been making frequent visits to the city to see my mom in the hospital. I ordered my usual, flat white—with oat milk in my Yeti tumbler, and set out toward the river, ready to enjoy a peaceful solo stroll.

That’s when I saw him. A small dog, happily prancing across a usually busy street. At first, I thought he was out with his person—a woman named Elora, as I would later learn—who was walking her own dog on a leash a short distance behind. It was charming, really. The little dog prancing out front, leading the way.

But a few moments later, it became clear—he wasn’t leading anyone. He was loose.

Elora was trying to catch him. She’d been chasing him for blocks already. I jogged up to help, coffee still in hand. Together, we tried to coax him back. He wasn’t running out of fear—he was having the time of his life, trotting along like a tourist on his own riverfront adventure.

We realized quickly: no collar. No way to grab him. And he was heading toward the busy Victoria Street bridge.

That’s when the city stepped in.

A man in a sleek black SUV noticed what was going on. I flagged him down and asked for help. Without hesitation, he turned around and followed us in pursuit. A runner joined in. Two cyclists, seeing what was happening, dismounted and placed their bikes across the street like a barricade. We were now a team—strangers, united by a shared mission.

The little dog finally paused. He could see there was nowhere else to go. Elora calmly removed the leash from her own dog and fashioned it into a loop. With slow hands and a gentle tone, she lassoed the small, anxious runaway. Safe at last.

We cheered. We breathed again.

There was one small hitch—I had tried to touch him gently, and in his startled state, he nipped me. Just a scratch, a little blood. But enough to warrant a bit of attention. Elora offered to text me the owner’s info, and I continued on to visit my mom in the hospital, where the nurses kindly suggested I head to a walk-in clinic.

At the clinic, the line was long. So I had time and called the number Elora had texted me. That’s when I spoke to Bob—Arlo’s owner. Yes, the little dog’s name was Arlo.

Bob was kind and apologetic. He told me Arlo was up to date on all his shots and thanked me sincerely. Then he surprised me: “Can you make it to Lakeside Medical? My son-in-law is a doctor there. He’s on shift and expecting you. They’ll take you right in.”

I couldn’t believe it. All of this for a little nip from a dog I’d never met.

At Lakeside Medical, I barely sat down before being ushered into the treatment room. Dr. Veikle greeted me and said he was expecting me. He gave me a tetanus shot, a precautionary antibiotic prescription, and a warm smile. No fuss. Just kindness.

And the story still wasn’t over.

When I stepped outside, Bob was waiting in the parking lot. He introduced himself, offered his thanks again, and handed me a Tim Hortons gift card—this is Canada you know... I tried to decline. He insisted. “From me and from Arlo,” he said. “Thank you for helping.”

Then he told me something that’s touched my heart.

A few weeks ago, Arlo hadn’t been doing well. Fourteen years old, deaf and nearly blind, they had wondered if it was time to say goodbye. And yet here he was—leading a spontaneous parade of strangers down a city street, filled with life, curiosity, and spirit.

That little dog brought out something beautiful in all of us that morning. Cyclists, joggers, drivers, café-goers. No one had to help. But everyone did.

And maybe that was Arlo’s purpose all along—not just to have one more Saturday adventure, but to remind us how much goodness there still is in the world. How strangers can become allies. How kindness can leap into action without a second thought.

I took the pill, got the shot, and told the tale. But Arlo gave me something much more lasting: a renewed faith in people.

So here’s to the little dog who ran free and pulled our hearts together for just a moment.

Arlo, you are loved…

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