Our son worked 86 hours last week.
One evening, he was driving back in the dark to the house where he's staying when he noticed a little dog – a West Highland terrier – alone in a street with hardly any houses in it. He’s a kind lad, so despite being tired, he stopped the car. The dog greeted him enthusiastically. Then he remembered that, about half a mile back, he’d passed some people who seemed to be looking for something.
So he put the dog on the passenger seat and turned the car round. The dog climbed on to his knee and sat there, licking his face. Son arrived at where the people were and asked them if they were looking for a dog.
No, they were looking for a public telephone. Their mobile (cell) phones had no signal in this rural area.
So Son had kidnapped a dog.
The dog had a phone number on her collar, but there was of course no mobile phone signal. So he drove to the house, dog still on knee, and phoned the number. Had they lost their dog?
Well, the people said, they had certainly let their dog outside a little while ago.
So Son had kidnapped a dog from outside her own house. (“Promising medical career ruined by dognap incident.”)
He drove her back again and handed her over.
“Still,” he said philosophically, “it was nice having a dog for a little while. And she seemed to enjoy her drive.”
We're really missing him. I wish someone would put him in a car and bring him back to us. Sonnapping. Good plan.