They would be looking for someone with dog hair on them, as it goes wherever I go. There would be no other description because I would be too stealthy.
I was a suspect one, Well, kind of. Back in the 1960s,
A cop followed me into the office building where I worked, dragged me out of the lift (that's elevator if you live on the other side of the Pacific) and wanted me to prove my identity. No problem. Then he showed me a photograph of the guy they were looking for. I could see the resemblance, right down to the ears (that look like a Legion cab driving down the street with both doors open). The guy had murdered a taxi drive and they had cops out at various strategic points looking for him.
Life's full of stories but I never thought of that as being one of them. Maybe I can work it into a blog. Yes, I see how. Thanks for the suggestion, Veena.