Rocky's excellent adventure

Photo:  Rocky behaving himself on another day.   Actually, in this photo, he is guarding a frozen goose egg that he "hid" beneath the picnic table and is trying to warn me away with the pose that didn't work.....

Funny story, at least according to Carrie, who I told it to the first time (since then, I've only gotten rather blank stares, so I can only assume that I told it much better the first time around....)

Rocky the husky was being a pain this morning.  He was on the dog cable, yipping and yapping and howling outside the door, impatient to run in the pasture.  I wasn't behind on schedule or anything.  He was just being impatient.  I told him to be quiet (fat chance).  I banged on the door for him to be quiet (no luck).  I yelled out the door with no results.  

When I came outside, fuming, he thought it meant that our usual routine was about to start, and dashed away.  We usually start in the rabbit area first, with both dogs checking for rat and chipmunk scent around the foundation of that shed.  I usually let the dogs in, shut the gate, and go about my business.  They go crazy, and for Rocky at least, this is the "job" that he waits for so intently, which leads to his time in the pasture (and the time when I make him run until he's exhausted).

Well, this morning I'd already lost all patience with him.  Did I want him to come with me for the usual routine?  Not anymore.  

I yanked the dog cable, collected the hyper-active dog, and told him "go to bed".  He went into his crate in the kitchen and commenced yipping and yapping from inside the crate.

When he had finally settled down enough to just be whimpering instead of actively commanding that I pay attention to him, I was ready to start our day.  But the routine had been interrupted, and Rocky doesn't know what to do with that new reality.

Shadow (the lab mix) was heading out the door, and Rocky burst free.  Granted, I hadn't quite gotten a firm hold on his collar, but this was uncalled for.

At first, both dogs headed to the pasture gate like they are supposed to do.  For one grateful moment, Rocky sat down to wait for me to let him through the gate.  And then he realized that I was still taking my first step away from the house and was very far behind him.

Both dogs gleefully sprinted off, with car horns blaring soon after.  Greenwood Road is a 55 mile an hour speed limit, with people going much faster than that as they crest the slight hill and zoom past our little farm.  

I had:  A cow to milk.  Other cows who were bellowing for food, pumpkins, and for the ice in their water trough to be broken through.  Sheep who would soon be bleating for their morning grain and mineral ration.  Geese who were screeching in the barn and chasing curious cats away from the nest where one goose keeps insisting on laying eggs.  Ducks and chickens waiting for their food bucket to be lowered down to where they could reach it and spill it all over.  Barn cats waiting anxiously for their small ration of fresh, warm milk and their meager scoop of dry cat food.....and two dogs who were roaming the countryside on the OTHER side of a busy road.

Shadow came back.  I worked outside for almost 15 minutes more, until there were no more outside chores to get done before milking Bessie.  

Rocky doesn't come to us unless we have bread ("anything for food"!), so I grabbed a couple of rolls, stuffed them in my pockets, grabbed the leash, and tromped towards the road in my muck-and-manure-crusted boots.

This would have been a great time to see Rocky trotting towards me, but no.

I called him, whistled, scanned the corn fields for him, and resigned myself to the fact that he was probably tormenting the neighbors chickens (they're in a small coop, but he's gone there before to see how coyote-proof that chicken-run actually is).  

Walking down the road on the narrow gravel shoulder, cars were zipping past me.  I had a roll in one hand and the leash in the other.  I thought for a split second "Maybe I should look behind me to see if he went the other way" but was fuming a bit too much to stop in mid-stride and actually do it.  

A car passed me, and I thought "Wouldn't it be just perfect if they slowed down and asked if I was looking for the husky that was right behind me?!!!"

Just about then, a furry nose appeared at about my knee, on the street side, sniffing the leash.  Of course, it was the dog that I was so furious with, trotting along like a good dog that hadn't been running crazy just moments before.

I turned around, masked the anger and praised him for being a good boy.  He sat obediently and looked expectantly into my eyes (because he knew I had bread for him).  This "obedient" look is always a bit unnerving.  His blue eyes make contact with mine, but his manner is more "I'll look at you to get what I want, but I'm REALLY paying attention to the much more exciting thing happening next to you".

I offered the roll while slyly (but calmly) grabbing his collar a split second before letting him get his teeth into the bread.  If I'd yelled, if I'd grabbed toward the collar before I showed him the bread, he would have been off and running again.  There is a certain procedure to follow with this dog in any situation; he knows it and I know it.

He trotted happily back on the leash, as if we'd started out for a leisurely stroll in the first place.

If any of the neighbors had been watching, I imagine it would have been just a little comical seeing me angrily stride along in the wrong direction (obviously searching for a run-a-way dog) only to have that dog catch up to me silently from behind and act like he'd done nothing wrong.

It's a happy ending (well, if he'd just quit yipping in the background it could be called "happy") but just how many times can he cross the busy road without being hit?  An excellent adventure today, but one day it will be tragic.  :(

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/