Flying Poodles

Sometimes, you’ve just got to let a dog be a dog…

After our agility weekend, I took Elly and Dancer over to Marymoor to let them run wild and loose this morning. It was a lovely crisp morning, a little frost on the ground, and both dogs turned into complete lunatics. Dancer ran with every dog who would have anything to do with her, including a pack of three whippets. Elly did a little tracking. After 45 minutes, I headed back to the car, and Elly actually decided she was not going home just yet.

Seriously.

I called her to come to me, and she turned around and ran in the opposite direction, right out of the park and into the blackberry bushes. She went tracking in there last July–I had to walk her down using my cane, and I still remember how much my leg hurt afterwards–and I’ve been avoiding parking anywhere close. This morning, I think she got a whiff of a deer, because she was gone and gone fast.

It took me forty-five more minutes to get her back. She had tracked whatever it was at least half a mile before I caught her (there was a lot of repetition, but she always ran away from me when I got close)–she went almost all the way to the east exit of the park! When she finally came to me, of course she acted like it was no big deal. By that time, I was panting with exertion–I followed her through blackberries, broom, wet ditches… and then she trots up to me and just leans on me like we’re at home and she wants to be loved?!

I was so relieved I just put her leash on, told her she was wonderful, and took her back to the car.

Why do I think it was a deer? She smelled of deer musk when I caught her. She must have rolled in it.