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| I was just having a look around. I promise. |
She looks pretty innocent there, doesn't she?
I write a lot about my wolfhounds, dedicating two books to them (The Complete Clobberpaws), with loads of material from our newest, Stanley. However, that little face there has given me enough material for a multi-volume book...I just have been too busy taking notes to actually write anything.
Yeah, that's my reason. Sure.
Anyway. Since her knee replacements have caused her mobility to be difficult (arthritis is awful), she is no longer able to go through the basement to get to the backyard. She goes through the front yard now and, because of said arthritis, doesn't wear a leash because I can catch her before she gets too far if she decides to head for the road. I could, that is, until Christmas Day.
[Let me pause here to say that she is fine and that when I say the road, I mean the barely used spur that connects our driveway to the road that gives us our address. A LONG driveway, if you will. No dogs were injured in this story, but my heart took a gallop and the t-shirt Hubs had on collected some briars.]
I took both dogs out, Willow on her own and Stanley on leash. I put Stanley in the backyard and shut the gate to see Willow wandering toward the top of the front yard. "Find a spot," I called, as that is her reminder to keep focused and find the perfect poo spot.
Well, that morning, she decided that the spot where she pooed was not the perfect spot. I took my eyes off her for a second to retrieve Stanley from the backyard, and when I looked back she was bustling across the aforementioned end of the spur toward the woodland beyond. I called her and she sped up, head swinging back and forth like John Travolta. My girl was stayin' alive all the way toward the overgrown land that belongs to someone else, her bully breed head keeping her forward momentum going.
The next few minutes went something like this:
Me: Willow don't you dare! Come back here right NOW!
Willow: [swings her head faster and busts through some dead wisteria and kudzu vines]
Me: Willow-Pickle! [that was followed by the zaghareet that includes her name yelled at a pitch my high school voice teacher would be proud of]
Willow: [keeps moving, and then sits for a moment on the white tip of her tail, expertly blending into the overgrowth. I can no longer separate her from the brush until she moves to stand up.]
Me: Simon! I need help! It's Willow! She's escaping!
Mind you, he was inside the house and I was outside so he didn't hear me. I grabbed up Stanley, tightening the slip lead until his eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, cartoon style, and ran for the house. You see, he had already tried to back out of said slip lead and follow his sister until a briar snagged on his fur and he jumped straight up in the air, turning around whilst airborne and aimed for the real street.
I dragged him down to the house and met Simon in the kitchen. After filling him in (WILLOW IS RUNNING AWAY THROUGH THE WOODS!), he went out the door with me right behind him, with poor Stanley left to watch through the window in the kitchen door. I followed him as he headed for the rustle in the woods that I was certain was Willow making her way to the highway but was actually our little adventurer stuck in some kudzu vines. She is little but thinks she is mighty.
Simon enters the overgrowth, watching for that little white tail. I am dispatched to get the loppers out of the basement--where Willow couldn't get through the vines on the ground, Simon couldn't get through the vines still trying to connect tree to tree. I returned with the loppers in time to see a very disgruntled Willow closing in on where Simon was standing and calling her--and laughing. She came past him and toward me, thought about making a break for it, and changed her mind when I jumped in front of her.
Eventually he freed himself from the overgrowth and I herded Willow back into the house. She was so proud of herself, strutting down the driveway like she was Willow-Pickle Indiana Jones.
My heart finally stopped pounding about ten minutes later and I think Stanley had forgiven me for having to miss all that action. I mean, it isn't my fault that the blinds were up in the sitting room [good view of the action] but he chose to remain in the kitchen [no view of the action].
She is lucky I love her. Happy Holidays, y'all.
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