My girlfriend has been coming over to walk with me a couple times each week. Since I have two dogs (and she’s not a dog person), I alternate which dog walks on each day.
Tuesday it was Daisy’s turn to walk. I got her harness on her and was ready to go before Tess pulled up. We three headed to the park by way of the green belt. It was roped off since the asphalt path had been slurried, yet again, three days before. I took down the barrier tape, and we walked through the neighborhood to the park. Daisy’s tail was wrapped tightly under her butt, indicating that she was stressed.
As we crossed El Capitan Drive, we were almost to the park. We headed down the driveway to Charlotte Wood School. Tess pointed out the Eagle Scout project that we’d seen the guys working on during a previous walk. Daisy yanked away from me and headed toward the street, her purple leash dragging behind her.
I called her and tried to bribe her back to me with a treat. I even sat down on the curb. She came close enough to smell the treat, but when I reached for her harness, she bolted again.
This is not the first time Daisy has run away. The last time she ran all the way home (three blocks), my son was with me and he sprinted home after her (he’s 34 years younger than me). That time she was off-leash and didn’t like a golf cart that went by. She’s a three-time rescue, so who knows why the golf cart scared her?
As Tess and I headed up the street to my house, we could see Daisy running up the sidewalk. There was no sprinting by the two of us. We are beyond the age of sprinting. Then Daisy was in the street.
“I hope she doesn’t get hit by a car,’ I said matter of factly.
Then she was running through the four-way stop intersection. Then she was back in the road.
Tess gasped. I believed that my dog was smart enough to get out of traffic. There wasn’t much I could do. Then a woman was out of her mini van to save my dog.
“She’s running home!” I shouted to the woman when we were close enough for her to hear us.
“Is that your dog?” she asked.
“Yes,” I called. “I’m going as fast as I can!”
Then we saw Daisy run up the hill past three guys tearing out a sidewalk. They stopped what they were doing until she passed them.
I saw my dog turn at my court and disappear.
“Where’d she go?” Tess asked.
“She’s probably sitting on the porch,” I said.
As we passed the three construction guys, one asked, “Is that your dog?”
“She’’s so fast!”
“Yes,” I said. “She wanted to go home.”
When we got onto my court, I was sure Daisy was safe. We got to the last house (mine), and there she was, standing in the front yard.
I asked Tess for a continuation of the walk with the other dog. We’d only gone 1.6 miles. She agreed, so I unlocked the door, let Daisy go in, and let Pepper come out. We three walked back to Osage Park and topped out our distance at 3.6 miles by the time we got back to my house again.
Daisy, you are one little weirdo. At least you made it back safely from Osage Park, alone.
This time, I have no idea what set you on your course for the safety of home. I’m glad you made it through the traffic.