Sunday, September 23, 2012
I have always called Wilson, "Mr. No Original Thought." He never strayed far from us on our walks. He would follow Frannie's lead in almost everything. If she jumped up to bark at something, he would too. If she wanted to go out, so would he. If I tried to take her away with me without him he would wail like a sick donkey. He's pathetic.
Wrigley lost off leash privileges earlier this summer when he refused to come to me because that SQUIRREL was up that tree. Oh no, now that tree, oh no, that tree over there. SQUIRREL possibility was much more enticing than a stupid, mushy, dog treat of questionable origin. Frannie has never had off leash privileges; her disdain for my authority has been present since she was a pup.
We took a longer walk this morning and headed into the woods. Wilson got scent of something and took off ahead of us. He circled back briefly. I was sure he was RIGHT THERE. I was distracted untangling Frannie and Wrigley from trees (we were in the WOODS, you know. Flexi leashes are great on the path and in the field. Not in the woods. One goes one way and the other goes the other)
He wears a Bear Bell, but I think that we make enough noise to scare away any wild animal that might be lurking ahead of us. I could not hear it at all. I called, we headed up the path a bit, I called and called. No Wilson and no bell.
I headed back toward home, felt guilty and went back, all the way to the end of our destination but still not sign of the boy. I was, admittedly, worried. I called and called. Frannie and Wrigley sniffed and pulled and tugged and got tangled up some more.
Finally I just had to give up and headed home. I figured that I would fetch Steven and he could drive up County rte 36a and see if Wilson was along the road there, and I would head back up the path.
Crossing the field I thought I heard his bell. I stopped to listen. Nope, guess not. There it is again. I headed up the field calling and promising treats. NADA no sign of poodle. No bell, either
I headed down our hill and into the upper field. Calling all the time. I got to the upper gate and THERE I was SURE I heard it. I kept calling and calling. I got into the yard and yelled for Steve to come help me find him and there was Wilson at the other gate.....he would have had to circle the shop and come up the other path to get to me. It was much more efficient to wait at the gate wagging his tail as if I had been the one missing. Steven said "Its good to know your way home even if you live in the middle of Manhatten or the hills of Westford."
Now, I need three hands.