Dogs as Reckless Teenagers

Sometimes I think my dog is a furry, retarded child. Dogs don't plan ahead, see danger or assess the consequences of their mindless, instinctual actions. Dogs just do whatever pops into their walnut-sized brains at the time.

Yesterday Echo and I were exploring up behind the house on our daily perambulation, and I decided to go up a trail I hadn't been on before. She bounded ahead, while I picked my way through the deep leaves and fallen trees on the seldom-traveled path. It got steeper and narrower as we climbed, and finally the path just got too difficult to continue, so I turned around and started down again. Echo, however, caught a scent and continued up the hillside above me, and when she was done sniffing, she decided to come straight down the steep slope to meet me.

I could see exactly what was about to happen--there was a sheer drop behind me, she would get going too fast on her four legs and start to slide, and inevitably shoot past me out of control and over the cliff! I lay down across the trail on my stomach, wrapped my legs around a tree, all the while talking to her in a calm voice "slow down, slow down," and as she shot towards me, I grabbed her collar, blocked her chest with my arm, spun her around and whumped her down beside me. I held her firmly around the neck while her dangling hind end scrambled back up onto the path.

Whew! The split second that had turned into a slow-motion movie resumed normal time. It worked perfectly, just as I had planned, and it was only afterwards that I realized I had only that one chance, and it could have gone much differently and ended badly. While I thought about that, I scolded her, and she leaped to her feet and wagged her tail triumphantly.

Now you're going to scold me, aren't you? But somehow, I knew exactly what to do without thinking about it, without having any time to think about it. I lowered my center of gravity, hugged the ground and secured myself first--there was never any chance that I was going to go over the precipice with her. I made the catch and it worked! Hooray for me! Is this what wide receivers experience in the Super Bowl? It was downright exhilarating.

But I don't think I'll take that particular path again, and certainly not with Echo. When I told Bill about it on the phone this morning, he knew exactly which place I was talking about--he sometimes sits out there waiting for deer to appear.

"Makes you wonder what she does when she's out by herself," he sighed. "I wonder if she'll ever grow up," sounding just like any father of a teenager.