Summer’s Escapade
Yesterday I walked the dogs.
This is a normal part of my routine no matter where I am; the mountains or suburbs of Colorado, at my own home or while I am house sitting for my clients.
My clients always have pets to care for and it is understood by everyone that I bring my dogs with me when I am on the job. It’s part of the package; my dogs come with me and help care for the property but, more importantly, the animals. And, we take daily walks.
Po and Hanna take their job seriously. Hanna is alert all night for predators and Po is the companion dog for everyone. Currently his primary charge is an African Gray parrot named Rexxy. He loves Rexxy, spending much of the day on the dog bed staring at her. For her part, she doesn’t seem to mind Po. But we’ll get back to those two later.
For the next 8 days we will be caring for Rexxy, Tess, and Summer. Tess is a border collie and, not unlike many cattle dogs, she is alert to automobiles, alerts everyone else to them, and would love to chase every vehicle she sees. Luckily she has a large fenced yard here in the country and traffic is very light. Summer is a collie. Her job is to look gorgeous and she does it quite well. She walks delicately as if she is heading down the Miss America stage of the 60s and 70s, swaying gracefully while in stilettos. All references to The Miss America pageant aside, it’s really quite charming, Summer’s regal behavior.
Last time I house sat the girls I was told that Summer didn’t really take walks much anymore. So I didn’t push it. She tended to walk slowly and tentatively ( who can walk fast on dirt roads in high heels, after all?) and, anyway, I was never sure she really wanted to be with us. So, on that stretch of days last Spring she got a little treat and mostly stayed home.
I thought that would be the case again for our time together this August. So, yesterday when we walked out the gate and Summer began to follow us I was a bit surprised. But soon she stopped short and watched us continue down the drive. I noticed her lagging behind so, Po, Hanna, Tess and I all turned around and brought Summer back to the yard.
Having escorted Summer back inside the enclosure, the four of us went back to our walk, the two female dogs on lead and Po, ahead of the pack, free range. We headed down the driveway and then east towards the rising sun. I suspected cattle the other direction and preferred avoiding the potential harassment by either bovine or canine from such an encounter. Now and again as we walked, Tess would check behind us, looking for Summer. I’d reassure her that Summer was fine and we’d continue on.
I like a brisk, long walk as do the dogs, typically, so I set my target for around the big bend up towards the top of the mesa, intending to turn around before the climb began to get steep. And so we went and it was wonderful, noses to the ground, or in the air as appropriate for the particular mammal, alert to our surroundings. Noting a new neighborhood driveway sign, I planned on posing the dogs on the return trip in front of the colorful mosaic that M had created. The morning was cool, almost autumnal. The dogs trotted and crisscrossed leads and then we turned and headed for home. All dogs were nose first and the girls were each near the end of their leads.
A few moments later I learned the Hum-V power of Tess. Two neighbor dogs meandered up the side trail on their home turf and stood waiting for us to meet up. One barked joyfully and the other hung back, waiting. She perhaps knew something I did not. Seeing the larger dogs,Tess lurched forward on her lead barking heftily. Hanna followed suit. Caught off guard, I was nearly pulled to the ground. Hanna is a Great Pyrenees. She is like a big strong teddy bear and twice the size of her female walking companion. But if she feels resistance on the lead, say when she attempts to chase down a rabbit but I decline the urge, she stops. Not so, Tess. It was she, not Hanna that had the power behind the pull. She went running full throttle at the neighbor dog and the end of the lead did not stop her pursuit. I did not stop her. The force of her body in full run, the power in her chest, snapped my body, a lurching half-turn, in her direction and we were off, through brush and bramble, over rock and ditch. Focused on her nemesis (or excited to see her buddy, I still do not know) she leapt over bushes that my 35” inseam could not clear. Headed straight for an Algerita (one does not want to run through an Algerita bush) I knew timing was critical. It was now, before my legs got torn up and before Tess reached the other dogs, that I would have to make a stand. With feet or face I was determined to stop. Just before my body began to lean forward beyond my balancing point, just before my face would become the brakes on the churning mob, I dug my heels into the ground and leaned back hard, skidding a foot or so before the dogs were pulled to a halt.
I was nothing less than shocked by the strength of the little four-legged tank. I shook off the near miss, took the best picture I could manipulate of the mosaic and ½ of the dog pack (literally Tess was completely in the photo, Hanna’s back half was captured in the screen and Po stood behind me, refusing to pose.) Then, having avoided certain utter chaos, we headed for home. It was then I got a text from Summer and Tess’ parents.
“Is Summer home? Just saw a note from the neighborhood social media page with a photo that looks just like her.”
I pulled up short, my adrenaline still measuring in the extreme range. Did I now have a potential loose dog?
“I am out walking the dogs and I left her in the backyard,” I responded via text. “Headed back right now should be at the house in 10 minutes… 5 minutes. Where was the picture taken?“
“ Check up at the neighbors house. I think that’s where the photo was taken.”
Turning my walk into a jog, I was home in 3 minutes. The back gate was ajar.
But, when I entered the garage, Summer was there waiting for our return.
I was, at the same time relieved and ashamed, the latter, 58 years into life, still my automatic response to imperfection. Yet everyone was safe and happy. All four dogs lied down and took a nap, pleased with themselves and their adventures. I, on the other hand, sat down, and, taking deep, deliberate breaths said my “mea culpas.”
This morning Summer joined us on our walk. We went slowly, allowing her to catch up with us when we pulled too far ahead. As usual, she sashayed down the road on tippy-toes, all the way modeling a perfect collie “10.” I just could not imagine her wandering to the neighbor’s house without an entourage. I chuckled. Such a personality, utterly prim, nothing like the three other dogs, each, whom I could easily imagine running beyond their property parameters to investigate neighboring yards. But Summer? Really? I laughed again. I love Summer in all her gorgeousness. And I will always double check the gate latch to her yard from now on. We kept this walk short and no one seemed to mind.
Today Rexxy and I also broke new ground in the trust department.
When that little bird had a series of seizures on my watch last year I learned how to give her medication manually rather than in her food, thereby ensuring she was getting proper dosing. Now I carefully catch her in a towel, gently wrap her and administer her meds via syringe. It’s a bonding experience that K calls “a bird burrito.” I talk to Rexxy while I cradle her, telling her that she is a good girl as I slowly give her the medication. Weirdly, it’s sort of like nursing a baby. I hold her close to my chest, gaze into her eyes and help her get what she needs to survive. Perhaps that is why she now lets me pet her and touch her with my bare hands.
I suspected that trust boundary, unprotected touch, had been established when I accidentally left my hand slightly exposed as I brought her out of the cage the night before to medicate her. She could have bit down hard, drawing blood, and not letting go, as she has done once before, but she did not. Rexxy merely licked the skin between my thumb and forefinger and went back to saying, “flour.” Medication administration went peacefully. She calmly allowed me to give her anti seizure medication while I softly murmured to her. Later, when I began singing while washing dishes, Rexxy joined in, singing her favorite song, “happy bird day.” We kept that up for several minutes. When she switched to whistling, I followed suit. It was quite a game.
Tonight I tried petting her. I knew the risks. African Grays are capable of biting off the end of a finger or breaking through flesh to meet bone. Rexxy showed no inclination towards that behavior. I was tentative, giving her the ability to move away from me if she wanted to but, instead, she chose to move towards my hand. She began to utter kissing sounds (or mewing?) lifting her shoulders away from her body. She lowered her head (submission?) and let me pet her neck, back, and wings. Po was a witness. He stood quietly on the nearest dog bed watching. The whole interaction was very sweet and I felt truly honored. It takes courage for a bird to do what Rexxy did. It takes trust. We trust each other.
Make no mistake. I do read Rexxy’s body language just as I read canine and feline body language. Like people, animals give clear signs as to their current needs and desires. It doesn’t take a genius to understand (sense, really) what an animal needs at a given moment if we are paying attention. If Rexxy wants to be left alone I’ll respect that. If a dog wants to stay behind from a walk her wishes will be honored.
Still, obviously, considering Summer’s little escapade, sometimes I miss the clues.
Comments
Post a Comment