But can he fly?

He is scolding his puppy too harshly.
I'm on the subway homeward, & this man has a puppy. He keeps saying "SIT!" & "motherfucker" mumbled with who knows what else, disappointed & angry. It's so difficult for this little puppy to sit on the moving train. It's so little & terrified & the man has scolded him so many times, the other passengers have tuned it out. The woman standing next to me watches with sorrow & anger in her eyes, just as I do. Gaze intent on the man & his puppy, I imagine we're both wondering if the situation will escalate & debating getting involved.
"Sit motherfucking.. if you don't SIT..."
I close my eyes, thinking that it's not my battle. It's not a battle. A wolf is eating a rabbit somewhere right now. A few lioness are preparing to pounce on gazelles from tall grasses. What is this puppy in a train & what is this man?
"Siiiit!" the man threatens again.
I open my eyes. I want to tell him to nurture the puppy. Use compassion. What's so bad about the tiny thing not sitting? Pet the puppy, don't hit it for no reason. Does he have an idea of what he's doing?
He swats the dog twice; not softly. The little thing is all frantic & skittering. I move towards him.
Brakes whine & the train slows as we come to the stop. The train doors open. In an instant I've ripped the leash from his hand & scooped up the dog in my arms. It doesn't bite me or lash out. I pet its head.
I run. He shouts after me, pursuing. He is so angry. Calling me a faggot because of my skirt.
"Stop!! He has my dog!"
I'm faster & it sounds like he's in pain. Is this sudden pity for him or outrage at myself for moving so brashly? Technically I'm stealing. He has the right to be angry. I'm acting without thinking. What am I going to do with this dog?
'Rescue it' I know. That man does not need to take out his problems on another being.
I dash up the stairs. He's surprisingly fast, for his age & the wincing, following me up the stairs. Not gaining, but keeping pace.
I burst through the turnstile & hear it turn behind me, people watching from all around us as he hollers. Someone moves in to stop me but they're not fast or confident enough.
I run up the final stairway to the street, & he's just as close as he was before.
He's quite a runner.
But he can't fly.

I lift off the ground when the ceiling disappears. "What the .. FUCK!" I hear behind me. I thought I'd feel like Moses, parting the Red Sea, but no one in front of me really moves, their backs all facing me. Then I fly higher. Faster.
I blast upwards out of the Municipal building, shouts & "whoa!"s all over the place. I miss this wind on my face. I have the puppy clutched to my chest, gently keeping its head inside my sweater. I can see people take out their phones but doubt they're fast enough to record anything. I've already flown around another building, another block, and another corner. It's like I'm heading home, but I don't know what to do. What I've just done. What legal trouble I'm in. I'm just heading home out of unthinking habit.
This is the lightest sky I've flown in. I've done it when it's really early in the morning & when I'm done dancing. That's when the darkness helps. Right now, however, it must be a little after 5pm.
Should I give the dog to some kid on the street holding their mom's hand? Or take it home? I can't have a pet..
Are those sirens for me?