Mar 3, 2017
I had just returned from fetching the paper at the end of our driveway, while walking the dog. When we got back to the porch at the house, I unhooked her from the leash, and left her on the porch alone, with the gate closed. I was getting my first coffee of the day when I noticed Sunshine standing on her back legs, paws up on the steel gate. The gate is about 40” from the deck to the top. I went out to fetch the dog but before I could even open the outside door fully, she JUMPED over that gate. That was a tremendous feat considering she did so from a squat position and the gate is so high. On the other side of the gate were stairs and as they went down, it was obvious her jump over the gate would be a long fall to the bottom. She hit the stairs with all her feet going all over the place because she lost her footing. She regained it and started chasing whatever it was she saw, likely a squirrel since they have been known to run in front of the deck like this. Sunshine could have broken some bones with that stupid, stupid jump.
I drove up Peggy’s Cove Road, thinking she would come that way, eventually, her usual escape path, but I never spotted her. I went to the Campground, where she traversed in her last escape, walked around, but no sight of her there either.
I Told You So
Returning home, I finished my breakfast, then reluctantly woke up Barbara to tell her the dog was gone. When Barbara asked how, and I told her, she had to say “I told you so”. I could not believe that Sunshine would even attempt such a stupid thing. Jumping over a fence is one thing, but doing so on stairs with a 10 foot drop is ludicrous. Sunshine doesn’t know the word.
I was going to wait for a while before putting a notice on the Lost Dog Network. I didn’t want to cry “wolf”, so to speak, because Sunshine might return. The good news was that it was above 0C, it was early and bright out, and Sunshine did NOT have a leash to trap her around rocks or trees. She would have a chance to come home on her own.
Veni Vidi Veci
When she ran down the driveway of the million dollar house, I followed but didn’t see her. When I returned to the top of that driveway, I saw her again, across the highway at the artist studio. I called, she came, she went. This time however, as she ran past me, I lunged at her in a football tackle but missed and ended up in the gravel on my hands and knees. It must have been a comical sight to someone watching from their house. Obviously being nice and offering food was not going to cut it.
Fortuitously, she ran into the rocks at Middle Point, a place I took her twice and she went nuts for because of wildlife hiding in holes between the rocks. She was smelling and investigating as I was trying to manoeuver her into a position where I could catch her. I’d move one way, she’d move the other.
Finally she made a mistake. She buried half of her body into a big hole under a huge boulder. I jumped at her, and got my hand on her collar. She was totally soaked and full of mud. As soon as I grabbed her, her demeanor changed. She was sad that she got caught, an expression she kept even after returning home. There she lay, feeling sorry for herself. Okay, okay, I felt sorry for her too. She just wants to be free to explore.
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