A 40-kilogram German Shepherd is barrelling down a hill in downtown Port Moresby, as a young man frantically chases, a lead and collar hanging uselessly in his hand.
Somewhere behind the flurry of fur and feet sits the ABC News compound, overlooking the city's glistening harbour.
But I have no idea this pursuit is happening, as I wait in a bank branch at the bottom of the hill.
I have only been living in PNG for a couple of weeks, and I am desperately trying to become a signatory on the ABC's account when my phone rings.
"It's Fooey," my partner Joel pants.
"She saw some other dogs and got away from me during the walk."
He's recaptured the wayward dog that we happily inherited with my correspondent job, but the two of them need collecting.
Joel stays in the car with Fooey as I return to the bank, and she sulks in the back, disappointed to have had her rebellious freedom curtailed.
"You don't know it yet, but we're going to be best friends," he says to her.
And he was right.
It's never easy to say goodbye to a friend.
The big job that came with a big dog
For almost four years we have had the joy of calling Fooey a member of our family.
She faithfully served the ABC for more than a decade, officially as a guard dog, but with a side hustle as an emotional support animal.
The longest-serving member of staff, she oversaw the work of four ABC correspondents.
Fooey earned herself a fearsome reputation around Port Moresby after terrorising some guards and tradespeople in her bid to protect the property.
No stray animal in the yard was safe and no-one dared approach the correspondent's house while she sat out the front.
Even when safely locked inside, she would emit a deep low growl from behind the opaque wire door — a terrifying warning for anyone with ill intent.
But for those she let into her heart, she was the most loyal and faithful companion.
When I was interviewing for the position of PNG correspondent, the man I was replacing, Eric Tlozek, was on the panel and asked if I was a dog person.
After I got the job — possibly because I assured Eric I loved dogs — we had a handover meeting in Australia.
Around a third of the time was dedicated to Fooey's wants and needs.
A good girl with a fearsome reputation
It didn't take Joel and me long after arriving to understand Eric's preoccupation with Fooey's care.
We had lucked upon the best dog in the world.
She had one ear permanently bent, bright eyes and a big head.
Once she had adopted us as her people, she quickly took to following us around the house, and intently watching any time we left it.
Our final image in the rear-view mirror before driving out the gate would always be her Batman-esque silhouette on the balcony.
In the office, she would sleep beside me while I worked, a smile-inducing presence, except on days when she had bad gas.
Yet she still managed to maintain a sassy, independent streak that I admired.
Fooey would come out on jobs around Port Moresby that might be dicey, riding in the back of the Landcruiser.
Her mere presence was the best security you could get.
A fearsome guard dog on the outside, she was a softy at heart.
When Joel and I were away visiting Australia, Fooey relocated to the verandah of the caretaker's house, where the groundskeeper Jonah Mondo and his family live, for company.
Jonah's eldest daughter loved toddling after her, giggling "Fooey!" and Fooey loved sniffing and licking her eye-level face.
Jonah's wife, very reasonably, put a ban on Fooey coming inside their home, given the dog moulted so much the remnants often looked like someone had sheared her.
But I know Jonah used to bend the rules if there was a particularly bad storm at night.
The only other person in Fooey's inner circle was the ABC's operations manager, Richard Cassey, who was her steadfast friend between Eric leaving and me arriving, and who would cheerfully greet her with a "hey girl!" each workday.
Everyone else maintained a respectful, slightly fearful, wide berth of her.
At the beach, crowds would part for her, but people would surreptitiously take photos.
For one Christmas carols event we put a headband adorned with Christmas trees on her, in an incredibly successful effort to make her less intimidating.
The grand dame of the ABC
A person can learn a lot from a dog.
Fooey taught me about loyalty and friendship; and the power of quietly being there for someone when they need you.
When I came home from covering an upsetting story, she always seemed to know, and would gently lay down next to me.
She mellowed in her old age, started sleeping more and using a ramp to get into the back of the car.
She could no longer roll onto her back to demand a belly scratch, although her leg would still run in appreciation when one was delivered.
After a few months of ill health this year, the fight finally left her.
Fooey will maintain her post guarding the bureau
There's a spot in the garden outside our house, where Fooey used to like to stand and bark at the guards' post when they came to do their rounds of the property at night.
Joel and Richard took turns digging and then the three of us buried her there, facing out over that guard post, forever on watch.
Jonah and his family arrived afterwards, and his wife helped their youngest daughter to put down a flower.
The following day I found Jonah had been back to put a ring of stones around the grave, marking Fooey's place.
I think he did it as much for Joel and me, as he did for Fooey.
There's nothing more to do now, and no way to fill the huge big-headed, ear-folded hole in our hearts.
I can't help but glance around for her when I enter a room, and in the quiet moments I still find myself shedding a tear.
Not for her, I know she is resting now after a good life, but for me, because I miss my friend.
