So there I was, wandering the apartments, holding a thirty pound dog, who was delighted by this novel way of travel, thinking "Shit, shit, shit. If I can't find the owner, I'll...call Kevin, I guess, see if I can stash the dog in his backyard until I get the Found posters up, can't take it to the humane society because it's a pit bull, shit, shit, shit..."
Fortunately, just as I was about to resign myself to temporary dog ownership, I ran into the owner who was calling for him. The dog was clearly delirious with joy to see him, which is the only reason that the owner did not get a royal chewing out from me re: collar. (We'll give him the benefit of the doubt on possibly have slipped it.) Unfortunately, since the owner and I did not seem to share much of a common language, I couldn't just ask.
Ah, well. All's well that ends well...
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