It was the Target parking lot. 6-something pm. Partly sunny. I pulled into a parking spot and was just listening to the tail end of an NPR report. A dog sat in the back window of the car opposite me. I had to roll down the windows after a minute–it was humid and the sun was strong when it wasn’t behind a cloud.

The dog climbed down from the window. A man and a woman parked next to the dog’s car and he, the driver, seemed interested in something he saw in that car. He peered through the window, gesturing to the woman with him. Then he walked away.

I wanted to know what he saw. I wanted to know where the owner was. I decided I’d go into Target and if the car was still there when I got back, I’d do something. I walked past the car and I too peered through the window. I couldn’t see anything but a fabric doggie carrier.

How hot was it? I couldn’t tell. The car windows were cracked, not enough for a forearm, but enough for a slender dog nose. And it was a slender dog. A small, yellow dog, shaggy and mutty.

I was in and out of Target in under 10 minutes. Nothing had changed in the car. I decided it wasn’t really that warm and turned on mine, but as I pulled out of the parking spot, I felt how good the air conditioning felt. It was warm out. It had to be warm in that car.

I pulled back into a spot, this time right next to the car, and I dithered. I called my boyfriend just to get a second opinion, but he didn’t answer. Should I tell Target? Should I call the cops? Should I mind my own business? Was I overreacting? Probably. Was the dog going to die? Probably not. Or was he? Where was he?

My boyfriend called back, told me the temperature, waited while I dithered. And dither I did.

I saw her as soon as she left Target. She matched the peace sign on her beat up car. She hadn’t bought anything.

She climbed into the car and looked over her shoulder, then pawed through the clutter on the back seat. I didn’t see the dog. She was tossing things around. No dog.

But she drove away calmly. Someone couldn’t drive away calmly with a dead dog in the back seat. Someone would have to feel something with a dead dog in the back seat.

So, the dog was alive, and I am officially the world’s worst guardian angel.