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One wide-brimmed hat, one snarling vineyard dog, and a French couple in hydration vests. This short story drifts from a sun-baked detour through the vineyards of Collioure to an unexpected moment of grace between strangers—complete with barking, fear, and a mid-run toast.
I run most days, in all corners of the world—from Nigeria to Peru, the Philippines to Papua New Guinea. And often, I run into dogs. Usually, we come to an unspoken agreement. But not on this particular afternoon.
This is a story about what happens when that agreement breaks—and what shows up in its place.
Have you ever been rescued by a stranger—or outwitted by a dog? I’d love to hear your story. Drop me a message or reply in the comments.
By LyssOne wide-brimmed hat, one snarling vineyard dog, and a French couple in hydration vests. This short story drifts from a sun-baked detour through the vineyards of Collioure to an unexpected moment of grace between strangers—complete with barking, fear, and a mid-run toast.
I run most days, in all corners of the world—from Nigeria to Peru, the Philippines to Papua New Guinea. And often, I run into dogs. Usually, we come to an unspoken agreement. But not on this particular afternoon.
This is a story about what happens when that agreement breaks—and what shows up in its place.
Have you ever been rescued by a stranger—or outwitted by a dog? I’d love to hear your story. Drop me a message or reply in the comments.