Maggie as She is Now
I have trusted Maggie off-lead a lot because usually a pause and a call will bring her back to my side. And Geordie usually stays harnessed at the end of a double length of lead because the world is his oyster, hunting-wise-- and his pearl could be a squirrel.
It's the Salad Days of Spring; and Maggie, I am certain, was a ruminant in a former life. (Geordie, in contrast, was either a coyote or an irrigation system.) And the nose-candy (not the white illegal kind) is fabulous if you're a dog. To put it into visual terms, it's like looking out and seeing a thousand of lines of multicolored strands of Silly String waiting for you to catch the ends and pull! Boundless entertainment. So much variety and it's all good! After all, dogs rarely make value judgments when it comes to scent.
Maggie and Geordie and I take the straightaway. We arrived at a locked gate and start the return trip car-ward. My car waits by the street curb about ten yards of so from the trail's entrance.
There is a side path. Very predictable for me. There's a log for Geordie to jump over that Maggie ducks under-- and lots of leafy stuff to evaluate. There are forks at the end and they all lead to a precipice; we rarely venture that far.
My cell phone rings. A friend is returning a call. We're chatting and I'm hitting auto-pilot without even knowing it.
"What a triumphantly glorious day!" I tell my friend. I feel the tug of Geordie wanting to move out half a football-field out in front of me. I assume that Maggie is exploring as she is wont to do. I'm watching nothing but "the day." I will call her back to me in a moment. I say goodbye to my friend and I notice that Maggie is completely out of sight! I almost-panic but don't quite yet. Even though she's going to turn 13 next week, her hearing is fine and her eyesight is adequate even for hand signals at a distance.
I tug Geordie down different forks of the trail. I look over one, and I see the cars driving on Highway 99E but don't allow myself to mentally "go there." I shove that thought from my brain but yell until my voice is raw.
Still no Maggie.
Finally a man with a rather grumpy and studly Basset Hound appears on the trail and starts snarfing at Geordie. I have no patience for Geordie's testosterone-driven one-uppence. I have already thought of cougars and when I look into the blue sky, I see a bird of prey-- a stretch perhaps for it to lift up a sixteen-pound Cairn terrier girl, but maybe I missed the other larger one that may have circled close by.
"Have you seen a dog that looks like this one?" I ask hopefully. I'm visibly shaken.
"All the way at the beginning of the trail. Red collar." Not atypical, really, that she might actually be waiting for us. Maggie is a very well-behaved girl most of the time, if you don't count the times when she barks at you-- it's usually because she wants something. It can be annoying.
I tug Geordie and we run fast. His resistance tells me he wants to be a little casual-- to savor the moment. It's not the first time I have ever perceived something like schadenfreude between these siblings. I think he may be enjoying this "only dog" thing and knowing that his sister is off doing something not- so- angelic.
Maggie once seemed to express schadenfreude , as well -- A few years ago, someone (who'll remain nameless) left the gate open and Geordie went AWOL, her expressive face revealed what really looked like a self-righteous "gloatiness."
Meanwhile, I went bonkers while Geordie made friends with the inhabitants of about five or six households a few streets down. People reported that he'd entered their houses, helped himself to their cats' food, and joined them on their sofas to watch TV. (Fortunately all ended well when someone placed him in a fenced yard of a neighbor who'd gone on vacation, and there he was-- three hours after we first noticed he was missing, looking very content-- there was more food and water-- waiting (or maybe not) for Larry and me to home. The gate would never be left unlocked again. . .)
Geordie and I are not far from the trail's head. I keep yelling Maggie's name. Finally, I see her booking toward me! It's her all right! Gratitude flows through me, and all three of us, reunited, walk back to the car. I unlock the door and Maggie jumps in. (It's the Canine Essentials that makes her so limber in spite of arthritis. ) Geordie follows.
Three kids are playing in their yard across the street from where I'm parked.
"Did you see her by the car earlier?" I ask them.
Indeed they had. In a blink of an eye, Maggie had decided to change the course. She had been out of earshot all those long (fifteen minutes) that I'd been yelling for her. Mingled with exhilaration and relief are more thoughts about what could have happened and how it would have been all my fault.
I have learned my lesson. No more casual cell phone chats while we walk-- and especially off-lead! And besides, it's so much better when I can be with my two with no distraction at all. Pure joy!
We go home and Maggie demands dinner. Sure beats her having been something else's dinner. Raw chicken backs all around!
Jill, Geordie, and The Adventurous MagaDog
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