my bad dog

Yesterday, I had to fish my dog out of the canal. I was jogging along, with one dog tied around my waist and holding on the leash of the other one (the small, bad one). My mind may have been wandering a little bit. Her leash had been slack for some time when Lucy caught sight of a group (gaggle? flock?) of ducks, yanked hard and broke free.

She slipped under the rails at the sides of the canal (I think it may have been this exact spot, although there was no dredger around) and hesitated only a moment before jumping in. Now I had never seen her swim before, and my heart sank, as she did. She re-emerged pretty quickly, and having recovered from her surprise (I think the canal was a lot deeper than she expected), she set off after the ducks.

I yelled her name. I looked around to see how she might get out (and how I might get in, if I really had to). I waited for her to realize she wasn't going to catch the fleeing fowl and return to me. She made it almost to the other side before she got tired, turned around and swam back in my direction (and even then she did one about-face and reconsidered). When she reached me, she of course, could not get out along the concrete sides of the canal. I lay down on my stomach, grabbed hold of her leash, guided her over and then pulled her out by the scruff until she could find enough purchase to clamber out.

At which point, she shook herself and soaked me in filthy canal water.

She trotted home quite happily, none the worse for her adventure. I on the other hand, was mad as a wet hen.

But the day's adventures were not over.

I dropped by my sister's yesterday afternoon. It was her birthday a couple of days ago. I gave her a card inscribed with the following:

On the cover: "My dog ate your present."

Inside: "You can have my dog."

I thought it was pretty funny, but I didn't realize how apt.

I also gave my sister two balls of wool, which are going to become socks. I took the wool away with me so that I can execute that transformation. And when I got home, I plopped both balls on the dining room table. I went upstairs to watch D. in the bath (S. and my spouse are both away right now).

When I came down, I found Lucy at the bottom of the stairs with wool wrapped around her neck and paws. Yarn was also draped around furniture legs. Both balls had had the paper ball bands removed. It took me an hour and a half to untangle the mess.

Perhaps she was trying to make art.

Just the other day, I was bragging to a friend about how good Lucy was on our trip East. I uttered the words, "She has really turned a corner."

My spouse would surely call that 'hubris.'

Lucy is lying on the floor beside me as I type this, looking very peaceful and innocent. She really can be very sweet. It's a good thing because I was tempted to call this post, "Free to a good home."