Thursday, August 9, 2012

Greyhound Walk And One Squirrel

Took an early lunch yesterday and took houndies up to the park for a small walk before the sun got too high.  Heading back home, both a bit warm and slow, we trudged down the street (Craigie trudged) and who is coming down the middle of the right-hand lane but Mr. Squirrel.  Straight line in front of me, Dee and Craig…

For 10 feet he merrily hopped up the street straight at me and 2 houndies.  Sluggish hounds changed instantly into very, very alert pups.  DeeDee started prancing and eyes bright and focused.  Craigie’s head bolted up, ears at full alert with an intent gaze in his eyes.

In a millisecond, I thought about the leashes wrapped around both of my arms and wrists, Dee on the left, Craigie on the right.  I thought about the fact, combined, they outweigh me by 30 pounds. I’m dead.   I thought about the fact we were in walking in the street. 

And my mind seized on the fact I would be dragged, face first, down the concrete street, through bushes and into a neighbor’s fence/tree/house.   Or my hands detached.  I’m dead.

None of that happened.  I found myself shouting at the squirrel, “what the hell are you thinking, you dumb ass!  The dogs will kill you!  Git!”  Thinking back, that really makes no sense, but at the time I thought Mr. Squirrel just might, remotely, listen.  Nope!  Kept up his merry little bounce.  The rest of the time calmly telling Dee and Craig no, leave it, leave it.  Over and over…  They were good.  Mom did not end up face first.

5 feet in front of us, stupid squirrel finally veered into the bushes. 

Craigie was still restless but, for once, behaving.  But Dee was still too focused.  She wanted a new toy.  Jerk of the arm.  Ok, dislocated shoulder.  No Dee, leave it now! 

Sadly for her, she didn’t get the squirrel.  There was a very grudging ceding from Dee.

The mom is, after all, the boss.  Tired but still the boss.

Just don’t put me in that position again, ok?  Holy crackers.  Face plants in the street…

Ah...  life is never, ever dull with a rescued racer.  Always fun.  Wouldn't trade it for the world.

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