My climbing rope got stuck 60 feet up in an oak in Rochester and a stranger's dog saved my whole afternoon
Last month I was deadwooding a big red oak off Park Ave in Rochester when my throw line snagged a crotch and my rope would not budge no matter how much I jiggled it. I stood there for 20 minutes yanking and cussing while the homeowner watched from her porch. Then her neighbor's golden retriever wandered over, grabbed the tail of my pull cord, and just walked off with it, which freed the line in about 3 seconds flat. I gave that dog half my sandwich and honestly he earned it more than I did that day.
Why is it that dogs just show up right when everything is going wrong? Feels like the whole world works that way, you fight something for 20 minutes and then some random creature fixes it without even trying. Life's weird like that.