I was reading Dostoevsky's "The Double" by the river, lying on a towel, when to my left handside I noticed a dog, barking, pacing up and down a small patch by the side of the river. I looked around, there was no one in sight who seemed to be the owner of the dog. The dog was obviously in distress, barking and barking, with his head tilted up. The dog kept pacing, but stayed in a small space. It seemed like the dog wanted to go upstream, which was not possible because the small shore by the river where one could walk ended where the dog kept pacing. 

I didn't know where the dog came from. I started wondering whether the river brought the dog here. Maybe the owner of the dog was somewhere upstream, also in distress because he threw a stick in the river, underestimating the force of the stream, then next thing he knew saw his dog drift away.

I wasn't the only one there who noticed the lost dog. A woman with a dog of her own was watching it. She started approaching the dog, but the dog ran away from her in small spurts, in any direction he could. The woman quickly gave up.

I continued reading my book. Even though I was fond of animals in general, I was scared of dogs. I imagined if I tried to approach it, it would rip my arm off and I would die as my blood would turn the river red. I kept on reading, hoping someone else would take care of the dog, or the owner would appear out of nowhere, just as the dog did.

I ignored my surroundings for a while. When I looked up again, the dog was gone. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. I later wondered whether I should put up some kind of ad, a sign, a poster, looking for someone who lost his dog by the river that day, but I didn't, the fate of the dog would remain hidden in the chaos of the unknown.