The Dog, the Dark, and my boots

The other evening,  my husband took Parker, our Blue Tick Hound, out for his potty break.  Parker decided he had  enough of the leash that was keeping him from running the woods, wrapped his leash around my husband’s legs and knocked him over.  While my husband was trying to recover, Parker took off with his leash still attached.

I was sitting in the study when my husband appeared and looked stricken.  He told me what happened and he decided to take our Walker Coonhound, Tallulah,  in the car and went find Parker.  He and Tallulah drove down the road (Tallulah was calling all the while), but they couldn’t find him.  My husband returned home and asked me to join them in case I could hear Parker.  As soon as we got on the road, I could hear Parker baying and it was coming from my next door neighbors.  So my husband suggested I take his tiny little flashlight and go into our neighbors yard, while he sat up at the gate in the car with Talu.

It should be noted at this point that I am wearing block heeled suede boots – not very high, but heels nonetheless. As I approached the neighbor’s house, I see Parker, mistakenly assumed that this might be easy.  But when I called him, he acted like he didn’t hear me and proceeds to run through the bushes and into their back yard. By now, my little flashlight is blinking. The space between their retaining wall and their house is pea gravel.  So already I am finding it difficult to navigate the grounds in my heels.  And about the time I follow Parker around the side of the house, my flashlight gave out and now I am in some sort of rock drainage hill.  In the meantime, Parker is baying to the top of his lungs, because he is now wrapped up between 3 bushes.  I don’t know how he could get that tangled that fast, but he did.  So now he is excited and anxious, because he can’t get away.  I can’t see a thing, because out here at the lake, dark means pitch black.  I’m trying not to think about possibly stepping on a snake as well as not falling down on the rocks..  I finally despair of trying to detangle Parker and the only way to free him is to unhook his leash.

So now I have an excited, anxious 65 pound coonhound by the collar.  And he is pulling.  And I am yelling, hoping my hard of hearing husband sitting in the car up on the street, might hear me.  But no.  I am tripping over rocks in the black of night and at this point, I’m not sure how I even got where I found Parker.  I’m trying very hard not to fall, worrying about what damage my boots are suffering as Parker drags me over a small wall and back onto the pea gravel.  I’m still yelling to my husband to no avail.  So as we come out into the drive way, my husband has the car facing the gate. and the lights are on, so I am blinded on top of everything else.  Somehow we make it up their gravel driveway, going around the gate, and my finger feels like it is about to fall off.

Of course, Parker is thrilled to see my husband and the car and Tallulah and he hops into the car like he is ready to go home.  At this point, I am resentful, hurting, thirsty, sweating  and wondering why my husband got to sit in the car while I went after the dog.  I tossed him his useless flashlight and I am not saying much at all.  But my husband can’t believe I left the leash behind and proceeds to cross examine me exactly where I found Parker.  It was a good thing that it was a short drive back to our house.  Parker had a treat, I had a bottle of water, and my husband finally realized I was not talking.

The next day, I had plans so it was left to my husband to retrieve the leash.  He found it, but then asked me why I didn’t just walk Parker though the woods between our neighbors and our house (that would be because it was pitch black, I was wearing heels and had lost my sense of bearings).  He allowed that it was probably a miracle that I got Parker out of there at all.  And that, friends, is what saved him, because if he had made any insinuation that it was in any way easy, he would have been dead.  Oh, and my boots?  They made it with no major damage.

Until next time, Elsie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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