| By Jack Carlson Last night was a beautiful, moonlit night. The air was still - crisp, but still. The house was quiet, my bed sheets were cool, and my body was totally relaxed. I was having a wonderful night's sleep. No tension, no pain. I was just floating on the edge of dreamland. Then, I heard my dog start to pace on the hardwood floor downstairs. Regretting not having clipped his nails for a while, I lay there and listened to him breathe heavily as he walked back and forth. "Click, click, click, click . . .” I listened to each toenail as it tapped the floor. His breathing became more and more pronounced - a sure indication he had to go outside to pee. I rolled my eyes under my eyelids and slowly shook my head. I knew I had no choice, so I pulled back the sheets and threw my feet over the edge of the bed. I sat up and debated for a second. "Do I really want to get out of bed and take him out? Or, should I just let him pee on the carpet and blame one of the kids?" I knew what I had to do, so I got out of bed and walked downstairs. My dog heard the stairs creak as I was approaching and got all excited. He had to go and he was ready. He was jumping up and down and panting. I took him to the basement and looked outside. The moon was glowing brightly and it was a tranquil sight. His leash was on the floor just beside the door, right alongside my moccasins. Though I was dressed only in zubas and a tee-shirt, I figured I would be okay for a few minutes in the great outdoors without a jacket. The leash is not optional. In recent years, my dog has gotten a little senile. He doesn't see as well as he used to, he doesn't hear a lot of things he should, and he gets confused from time to time. Kind of preparing me for my own later years, I suppose. But, the leash rule is only for those who don't have absolute control of the dog. I don't really need to follow that rule, since my dog does everything I say and our relationship is so solid. He goes where I tell him and comes when I call. So, I opened the door and we walked into the night. He sprinted (as old dogs sprint - kind of like I do) to the edge of the yard and just stood there. He peered into the woods and seemed confused. He looked back at the house and didn't seem to recognize it at all. He walked a few steps into the woods and peed. As soon as I saw him walk into the trees, I knew things weren't going the way I planned. So, I whistled for him (which ALWAYS works). He turned his head toward the sound and gave one of those 'yeah, right!' looks that you always get from teen-agers. And, he walked a few steps further into the brambles. I didn't want to spook him, so I walked slowly up behind him and talked quietly. Real smart, since he can't even hear you when you talk loudly. He headed further into the woods and I really started to regret having gotten a dog with black and brown coloring. A little hard to distinguish in the woods at night. As I followed him, I kept getting snagged on the thorns of those obnoxious brambles that seem to grow, even in the dead of winter. I had no choice, so I just kept ripping through them. They seemed to know I was barefoot, in moccasins, and they scratched the bare skin unmercifully. My dog turned towards a clearing and my hopes got a boost. I walked up behind him and just about had him cornered, when he noticed the houses and headed back towards home. I felt relieved and followed him towards our house. However, he was just playing with me and he turned the other way, trotting across our neighbors' back yards. I kept following him, half expecting one of the neighbors to call in a report of some weird guy, in his pajamas, slipping and sliding around in their yard at four in the morning. Or, worse yet, thinking one of them might just take me as a challenge and see if he could hit a moving target. Then, the damned dog headed back to the woods. He saw a woodpile and meandered through it. I followed and banged my shins on a log or two. As we exited the woodpile, the ground started to slope downhill drastically. Let me tell you - a dog with four legs can negotiate an icy slope in the dark much better than an uncoordinated guy in his pajamas, wearing moccasins with totally smooth bottoms. I kept sliding about five feet and slamming into a tree. Then, another five feet, through the thorns, and into another tree. The dog was just bouncing along, happy to be out for a walk. We negotiated about 300 yards of treacherous woods and came to the clearing at the bottom of the hill. He headed out across the softball fields toward an entirely different neighborhood. I knew if I didn't catch him soon, I would be filing police reports in the morning. So, I got tactical. I swung around to the left and approached him from the side. I came up slowly, on the side with the worst vision. I could tell he was flighty, suspecting someone was near, but he couldn't tell where I was. I dove for him and grabbed a hunk of hair (his hair - I don't have any). I used my leverage to get a hold of his collar and I sat down in the snow to breathe hard for a few minutes. Then, we had to head home. Him, just walking along, enjoying the night. Me, bent over at about 90 degrees to hang onto the collar and keep him moving in the direction I wanted to go. Of course, there was no way I was going back through those woods, so I headed across the ball fields to the street that would take us in the general direction of the house. The problem was - the path to the road was uphill and icy. So, we made slow progress. Even old 'four-feet' was having trouble staying upright. But, he wasn't freezing his butt off in a tee-shirt and pajamas. We got to the road and started uphill towards home. It was seeming like the whole world was uphill, at this point. I saw a car coming up the hill and waved him down. (Why anyone would stop for a guy, in his pajamas, in February, in Minnesota, pulling a dog by his collar - I don't know). But, the guy stopped and rolled down his window. I gave him the abbreviated version of the story and he opened his back door and let us in. I think he had second thoughts when he saw the blood on my hands, wrists, and ankles from the thorns. He had, after all, just let a dog into his car with a guy who looked like he had been mauled by a dog. I think he set land-speed records driving us home. He let us out at my front door and I thanked him profusely. I opened the garage door and my dog was excited to be home. He ran into the house and I gave him a treat to let him know I wasn't mad at him (I was - but there was no need to let him know). I took off my moccasins and headed back to bed. But, he started getting all excited. He had to get out to pee. Of course he did, it had been about an hour since we went out the last time. This time, I used the leash. 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| Jack's Place winter, 2004 DILLIGAS |
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| WALKING THE DOG |
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| Jack & TJ out walking...the second time |
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