This morning I met a friend out at Sullivan's Island - he was passing through Charleston, after being in the state for a Boykin Spaniel field trial. This friend, a former colleague, taught me how to sail when I lived in Florida - and I hadn't seen him in a long time. Time has passed: we are both older, sail less than we wish we did, and the dogs we had then are different than the one's that we have now. That's life I guess. He talked about his divorce a few years back; I talked about my Mother's illness. We both talked about science and what our lab's were doing. It was fun catching up with him - and the people that we knew in common.
On the beach were several jellyfish - and another palm tree root ball. I've been fascinated by them before - I found myself fascinated by their pattern again today.
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It was a dreary day - breezy and cool (I don't think the highs got out of the low 50s) - cloudy, but they weren't clouds that produced rain - much needed rain, so that was a disappointment. Sullivan's Island was quiet - there were a few clusters of labradors, that one miniature dachsund - and a beautiful young german shorthair who was just running and running and running.
I took Stanley - who loves the beach and at eight years of age is well-behaved. Yes, he runs around. Yes, he pees on everything. And yes, he sniffs every butt that he can. But he always stays near me.
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The Wild Dog also came today - but she was kept on a leash. While she has been making alot of progress over the past few months (oh, you know - the basics: she no longer jumps OVER the couch, she sits for her dinner, and she doesn't torment the cat) - our biggest problem, and the one that worries me the most is that she is a bolter. That is, when she gets loose, she takes off - and she's fast and she doesn't look back.
So stupid me today dropped her leash while at the beach.
It was just one of those split-second things: there was a cute little kid with a plastic wheelbarrow walking down the beach, and Stanley and my friend's dog were playing with the kid and the kid was laughing and the next thing I knew the Wild Dog was a quarter of a mile down the beach.
I'll tell you the ending first: the Wild Dog is sound asleep on her bed as I type this, so she is fine. But let me just say that what happened today is my worst fear - that little 42-lb crazy thing took off down the beach and my friend went off after her and about 45 minutes later and a couple of miles, he got her. But he didn't get her because she came up to him when he was calling her, or because she wanted to hang out with Stanley or my friend's dog. Essentially my friend was able to sneak up on her, from behind a rock wall - and put his foot on the Wild Dog's leash.
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I'm a horrible disciplinarian with my dogs. I don't tolerate biting. Or much growling. And you have to respect the three-legged cat. I'd prefer for them not to jump on guests. But other than that, life is good, right?
So I sit here tonight thinking to myself that this sweet Wild Dog and I both need some serious training. I need to be firm and consistent with her - and I need a class. I laughed with my friend today that I didn't think a class was going to help us - that perhaps we needed complete immersion, like a dog and dog owner boarding school. This is one intense little alpha dog that I have rescued. I tried to sign up for a course last month, but my schedule wasn't compatible with the times - so I am going to try again this month or next for something.
What happened today scared me.
The Wild Dog and I need some serious training.
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