November 16, 2012
I think the last time I mentioned the dogs, I bemoaned the interruption to my usual early morning routine. Things have improved a bit.
The little stinker got over her back pain in a matter of days and rejoined Wille and me on the adventures around the lake. I can't actually do anything about the forced leash situation (you know, the one caused by the unspeakable badness that Willie accidentally performed on the first of October, leaving him with a life sentence on the leash with no chance for parole). If I walk far enough away from civilization, I can give him a short, free run, but no more romping about with his weimaraner girlfriend in the 'hood.
We had a splendid walk on Thursday--brisk temperatures (finally), a clear sky, and best of all the first liberated morning that I didn't wake up with grading hanging over my head in six solid weeks. We decided on the long route, all the way down Charlotte Lane to the Stasney Ranch fence line. This itinerary takes us past the Brick House Dogs: Buster and Boo (two dogs who I suspect have clandestine lives where humans wager on their ability throw down on their buddies and put the smack down on other pooches) and their basset sister, Chloe.
Chloe likes to bark us up, but generally stay on her throne near the garage. Buster likes Willie and always swaggers out (though now with a significant limp and a few more facial scars than he used to have) to exchange bootie sniffs in the middle of the road. Boo rushes forward down the driveway, barking until we come into sight, then retreats like Sir Robin when Willie stands his ground and ends under a nearby truck to finish his barkfest.
On Thursday, they all (even Chloe) rushed down the driveway when we approach to do their very best: sniff, bark, challenge, retreat. Except.
Except there was a fourth dog. No Name. Catahoula/Beagle Mix. Maybe? Not a fighter. Not the beloved princess of the family.
He followed us home. Another mile. Down the fence line. Through the picnic area. Across the dam. Around the pond. Through the wilderness. Past the neighbors. Home.
He played with Willie (on the leash and off). He tried to play with Teddy, who would have none of it.
He sat on the back porch after we went in, shivering from the crisp air or the unfamiliarity or his surroundings or perhaps from the confusion of being truly lost. After breakfast, Walter used a Milkbone and a leash to befriend then capture Willie's new young friend and walked him home.
We really hope that New Dog will become a lover, not a fighter.