A Pooch Leads Police, Reporter, and Senate Staffers on a Hairy Rush-Hour Chase Around the Capitol While Running for Congress.

I thought it was a jogger at first.

A person wearing black sprinted along the north side of Constitution Avenue, near the U.S. Capitol's Senate building.

But it was too fast for a jogger. There was an urgency.

A female U.S. Capitol Police officer, with a thick tactical vest, had a radio pack and other police equipment attached to the front. She yelled.

Then three other Capitol Police officers charged up Capitol Hill, knees churning.

Police radios crackled. Something was terribly wrong.

What is the concern: security breach, terrorist attack, firearm, or explosive device?

It was something else.

A scruffy, brown and gray terrier scurried up the hill, with no leash. It darted between cars during the pm rush hour on Constitution Avenue.

On this sticky June day, the dark pavement released the scent of petrichor after a stray shower bathed the street, charging the air with moisture in the way Washingtonians know all too well during warmer months.

But it was about to become a dog day afternoon.

The Russell Senate Office Building was charged toward by a loose pooch, but it haphazardly hopscotched across the busy roadway, evading vehicles like an '80s arcade master playing Frogger.

The dog artfully dodged the cars. But the canine risked getting KO-ed.

On the Capitol side of the street, I realized the mutt was heading towards me.

He made a dogleg turn and loped toward the Capitol.

I had just finished delivering a live report on Bret Baier's program about criminal referrals for Hunter Biden and James Biden by a trio of House committees. It was around 6:25 pm and I was walking to my car. I dropped my lunch pouch on the sidewalk and inched toward the street between two parked cars. I crouched down, arms extended and hands sagging toward the ground, like a soccer goalkeeper about to challenge a breakaway at the front of the penalty area.

The dog's safety would be ensured if it were removed from the street and taken to the Capitol square side of the Congressional complex, where there are 60 acres of open areas, bushes, leafy trees, park benches, and twisting footpaths.

The pup spotted me.

Zoooosh!

He made a sharp turn to the right and raced into the ditch between the parked cars on Constitution and the curb. The concrete barrier between the curb and the grass was too high for the dog to jump onto the Capitol square. Now he was running back up Capitol Hill.

""Get that dog!" I yelled at the oblivious woman talking on her phone next to one of the parked cars."

As he ran over her beige mules, she looked up and zipped back into the street.

Oh no.

Several officers who joined the chase on the north side of the street had now run over to the south side near the Capitol with me. Fortunately, no traffic was headed up the hill on Constitution as the dog loped down the hill. He undulated back and forth across the six lanes of roadway like running between agility obstacles at the American Kennel Club dog show at Madison Square Garden.

I seized the opportunity to sprint up the hill as cars slowed down, my blue and striped tie flapping behind me. My TV IFB cable was still attached to my earpiece and dangled down my back from the live shot.

"Stop traffic!" I yelled behind me to the trailing officers.

I glanced behind me and noticed several vehicles moving slowly in the opposite direction on the hill. The officers in uniform were visible, running towards the scene.

The dog was moving northward, toward the lower end of Russell Senate Park and the Taft Memorial and Carillon.

The terrier, exhausted and scared, sought refuge under a parked car on the north side of the street. There was no traffic advancing in the far lane toward us, as someone must have called to shut off traffic on the radio. I could see a wave of traffic clustering at the foot of Capitol Hill, backing up toward the Department of Labor. An officer assigned to the post at the corner of Constitution and 1st St., NW, stood in the middle of the roadway, halting the cars.

I reach the back of the car and crouch down. The dog is nearby. An officer approaches the driver's side and falls to the ground, looking underneath the vehicle.

We were unable to capture the dog because there were only two of us and we couldn't find a way to grab ahold of a leg or collar.

He sprints up the hill, his small legs moving like tiny pistons, heading towards the Capitol side of the street. The dog darts across lanes like a frenzied commuter on the Beltway. Luckily, there is no traffic now, so the road is clear for the dog to dash under a silver Toyota sedan with Maryland license plates parked behind a dark red Acura SUV.

The four officers from the grassy hillside of the Capitol square ran toward the vehicle, including the original officer in the tactical vest. Three other officers followed, including the one in the long skirt and the one wearing an orange tie that resembled the Tampa Bay Buccaneers colors of the 1970s. The white, oxford dress shirt of the officer in the tie spilled over the top of his belt, apparently from his part in the pawchase.

The little guy is flailing around under the car, making it hard for him to dash away. Two officers in the street are standing back a few feet, hands on knees, ready to grab the wayward dog if he escapes again.

I'm on the ground with my right arm extended under the driver's side, smelling the fresh rain from the greasy pavement. An officer on the passenger's side somehow grasps the collar, but the pup wiggles out of it. I try to poke at it from my side, hoping to push it toward the curb. Finally, a mustachioed officer in a U.S. Capitol Police ballcap manages to pull the pooch out from under the car on the curbside.

The dog, terrified, is bitten by the officer who shouts, "F---!"

No good deed ever goes unpunished.

"F---!" yells the officer again, grimacing.

He abruptly hands the dog to another officer in uniform and examines his right hand.

The panting pup was given to a plainclothes officer who arrived on the scene wearing shorts and a bandanna. He cuddled the hound close to his chest and the dog began to relax.

Despite the absence of a tag on the collar, a report of a missing dog in the area suggests that there may be a microchip embedded in its neck for identification purposes.

Everyone is grinning, but gasping for breath. Beads of sweat glisten and slip down cheekbones. It was four minutes of an intense, aerobic pursuit. Considering all of the direction changes, it's a wonder no one turned an ankle or tore an ACL. The officer in the tactical vest is now smiling, laughing even.

The stalled vehicles on Constitution Avenue have been cleared, and Sen. Tom Cotton, R-Ark., was among those who witnessed the incident.

Washington's politicians are notoriously difficult to trust, so if you want a reliable ally in the capital, it's best to have a faithful canine companion by your side.

If you're a dog in Washington, the U.S. Capitol Police may be your best friends.