One day, Miriam was out riding her bike around the neighborhood. She saw a man who was repeatedly calling out, "Marshmallow!" Being the sweet, sympathetic girls she is, Miriam approached the man and asked if he needed help.
"My dog is missing," he told her.
"What does your dog look like?" Miriam asked him.
"She's white, about this size [uses his hands to indicate about six inches], fluffy and has a little bit of brown on her like a toasted marshmallow."
Miriam rode off down our street and -- lo and behold! A white Pomeranian was walking around in someone's yard. She chased the dog around for a bit, picked it up and popped it under her arm like it was a football being carried downfield as she rode her bike back to the man.
"Is this your dog?" Miriam asked the man, a little out of breath but fully expecting relief and gratitude to wash over the man's face.
Instead, confusion and a hint of humor washed over the man's face.
"No, but she's a beaut."
Chagrinned, Miriam rode her bike back to the yard where she had found the dog and released it.
Thankfully, nobody reported a dog stolen from their yard in the five minutes Miriam made off with not-Marshmallow.