Our friends, Don and Donna Moore, have two Vizla dogs. Ron and I love dogs, and since we live only five miles from them we enjoy going to their home to feed and tend to the Vizlas whenever the Moores need to be out of town for a time. We have done this quite a few times with no trouble and enjoy being available to help our friends.
This Thanksgiving our friends had the opportunity to travel to their son's home for the holiday, and so we were glad to help them out again. Ron would go over in the mornings to walk the dogs, and I would go in the evenings to feed and walk them. I must mention that there are also two cats that I made sure were fed and watered, but you know how cats are. They really don't need much attention. Our task would be for five days, and, as usual, all went smoothly, that is, until the very last night.
I had fed the dogs and walked them. When we came back into the house I removed the leashes from the dogs and commended each one for their wonderful cooperation. (They are very, um, rambunctious, not to mention large and strong, dogs, and can be a real handful if not guided with a firm hand.) Now that I had the dogs taken care of I walked to the back of the house to make sure Sidney, the cat, had plenty of food. Sid and I talked as I prepared a bowl for her, but I suddenly realized how quiet the house was. I walked toward the hall to find the dogs and saw the second cat who had been outside walking toward me. I looked up to see the front door standing open. I had not shut the door tightly enough to latch it, and this sweet little black cat had pushed her way in. And the dogs were long gone.
I dashed out to the yard, first listening, then calling their names into the empty night and into the empty woods that surround on all sides. I heard nothing. And I knew without a doubt that since the house was located less than a mile from the lake the dogs were at this very moment having a wonderful, albeit cold, swim and enjoying their freedom. In my mind I just knew that they were also chuckling in their little wet beards at their little coup. Thanks to that black cat.
I locked up the house and jumped in my car to drive down to the lake, but this was the end of November, and the entrances to the lake were all closed for the season. I had no choice but to turn around and go home. I didn't have my phone with me, so as soon as I got home I called my friends to give them the good news. Your friend has allowed your multi-hundred dollar dogs out of the house, into the woods, and no doubt gone forever.
My dear friend laughed. These two had pulled this little trick a number of times, and I was aware of the stories. But none of those times were they in my care. That made this totally different. Donna assured me that they would come home, wet and ready to come in, and that by morning we could go over and let them in.
About three hours later I was just climbing into bed when my phone rang. The Moore's neighbor had called them with a report of seeing one of the dogs at her door. I scrambled out of bed, threw on my big fuzzy red robe with the big white flowers on it, slipped into my moccasins and ran out the door. It was no matter to me if I wasn't dressed. The neighbors across the road hadn't been home earlier, and there was no one else to see me.
When I got to their house there were no dogs. The neighbors were now home so I rolled my window down to inquire about dog sightings, but they hadn't seen them. As I drove back up the hill I saw one of the dogs in the woods, so I stopped and began to call to them. Immediately they came to the car. I was shocked! I didn't think it was going to be that easy. Well, it wasn't.
They did come up to the car, but I had only one leash with me. The first dog that came to me was the smaller male, and I slapped the leash on him. That was a mistake. When the larger female came up the only way I had of keeping her near me was to hook my hand around her collar. That's a very big dog, a very strong dog, and holding on to her while trying to control the male almost put me in the ditch beside the road. I was finally able to stand up long enough to open my back door of the car, and I looked in with a sinking heart. My Jeep back seat is not very big, and locked into place by the seat belts were the two small dog car seats for our little dogs, a chihuahua and a Boston terrier mix. I wasn't sure these two were going to fit in my back seat, but I had no choice. I couldn't walk them home while bent over holding on to one of them, the strongest one, by the collar. Especially since I was wearing my big fuzzy red robe with big white flowers on it.
I tried to get the female, Cinco, in the car first so I could let go of her, but as big as she was she just couldn't get in. I told Jack to get in and he jumped in immediately, but he stopped at the first doggie car seat and would not move on. I turned to Cinco, and by this time she had decided that she was staying on the road. I pushed and I shoved, but she would not get in the car, and Jack wouldn't move over to give her more room. Finally I drew a big breath, this dog weighs 75 to 90 pounds, wrapped my arms around this animal and heaved her into the car. She wasn't happy, but in she was, and I slammed the door shut before that black cat showed up.
I jumped into the driver's seat. Jack was sitting in one of the car seats in the back with his head on my shoulder in the front seat. Cinco was fighting the small space she was allotted, and I just knew that there would be little left of my back seat by the time we got back down the hill.
I backed all the way down the hill, not willing to drive any farther than I had to. I pulled into the drive, drew a deep breath and announced, "Everybody stay right where you are. I'm going to go unlock the door." There were no objections. I unlocked the door of the house, reached in to grab the second leash before going back to get my little vagabonds. Jack jumped out as soon as I opened the door. I looked in and there sat Cinco, this big brown hunk of an animal curled up, no, wadded up, as small as she could get to fit into that little doggy car seat. She looked miserable and pathetic. But when I called her she wouldn't budge. She just sat there daring me to make her move.
Now, I'm not a young girl anymore, and I had just had knee surgery two months before. My other knee had been giving me fits, and I could stand to lose a few pounds myself. I had been stressing for three and a half hours about my dear friends' dogs, and I had had to fight to get this one's fat butt in my car. I had done that with the neighbors still out in their yard, so I knew that they had seen me wrestling with these dogs while I was wearing my big fuzzy red robe with the big white flowers on it. I was in no mood to mess around any longer with Cinco's stubborness. I climbed into the car, snapped the leash on her collar and dragged her across the seat. But she would not jump down. So, once again, I took a deep breath, wrapped my arms around her and lifted her down. I slammed the car door. I was almost done.
We got to the front door, and I have this rule, this ritual that we go through, and as tired as I was, we were still going to follow my rules. Caesar Milan says to always go in or out the door before the dogs to show them you are in charge. So, I said, "Sit!" Nobody sat. "Sit!" They just looked at me. "Jack, sit!" I bellowed. "Cinco, sit!" Jack finally sat, but Cinco, who is usually the most compliant with me, the first to sit when I ask, just looked at me. I could read it in her eyes. "You screwed up, lady, and if you think I'm going to obey you now, you're nuts!" I pressed on her backside. "Sit." I picked up her face in my hand to make her look at me. "Sit!" I demanded. Nothing.
Let me just say right here that I am of Welsh and Scottish decent. I invented stubborn. Before we went into that house that dog sat.
By the time I got back home I was exhausted, but more than that I was angry. I was angry at the dogs, which certainly makes no sense at all. Dogs are going to do what dogs do, and these dogs love to run and play and swim. I was angry at that darn black cat, though I admit and repent of it that I didn't say "darn" the first time. But mostly I was angry at myself for allowing such a thing to happen, angry that I had worn myself out getting the job done, and definitely angry at myself that the Moore's neighbors watched it all happen with me in my big fuzzy red robe with the big white flowers on it. Well, at least I wasn't wearing my big pink pig slippers!
