My name is Sally and I am a dog-aholic. It seems I can never get enough interaction with my canine friends. Owning four dogs and visiting the nearby 65-acre dog park five miles away on a daily basis should confirm anyone questioning how much I just love to be around dogs. I find them endlessly fascinating and almost always gentle. And even after this type of daily submersion, I still found myself wandering into a local animal shelter on Saturday imagining that day I could set someone free.
The weather this past weekend was beautiful and after my two trips to the Wauconda Dog Park with my pack I wanted to see more. I had just fostered a beautiful white pit bull named "Beau" who I had nursed back to health from a severe case of mange. However, when she began to feel spunky she decided that extra strength could send her to the head of the pack. After numerous scuffles and eventual attacks, I made it a priority to get her into a dogless home. Now I was feeling the emptiness of her absence which caused me to head to a nearby animal shelter. I needed the "fix" of a young dog's exuberant company that would bring me joy like Beau did.
The first dog I brought out to the play yard was a Tree Walker Coonhound known for their gentle disposition and their love of running. This coonhound had arrived at the shelter three weeks prior after serving two weeks on death row in Southern Illinois where he had been picked up as a stray. To say that this dog, "Beech", was untrained would be a vast understatement. As I led him to the play yard, he whirled and swirled on the leash, over-powering me at every step. As I took firm hold of the leash, he scrambled between my legs. Regarding myself as a sure-footed dog trainer, I couldn't help but double over laughing as I saw my reflection in one of the shelter windows.
When I brought Beech into the play area, he was off like a flash full of energy and excitement. I wasn't even able to remove the choke chain and leash. I didn't stand a chance against this boy. For ten minutes he ran like an insane creature who was blinded by the light of day. I sat on a bench and let him roll. Beech's next trick was to find a ball and throw it to himself endlessly. Throw, jump, catch. Throw, jump, catch. Boy would I love to see this guy play in the snow! With every throw and catch, I burst into laughter and he'd stop and look at me. It was very apparent he saw himself as a genius fellow who could act, and get a reaction, with every step.
Not to be completely dominated, I did throw in a quick lesson of "sit" - a major feat with this free spirit. Grabbing a hold of his leash, he threw me off-balance. The joy in his moves was inspiring. I hadn't laughed this hard since Beau left our home.
The next dogs I took out for exercise were a gorgeous well-behaved American Bulldog, a snow white senior husky mix who was scheduled for eye surgery and a pitbull/lab mix. Each dog had fantastic traits in his or her own way but none of them brought me to my knees in laughter.
What quality do these dog-clowns have that is generally under-appreciated by humans? It has been 24 hours since I saw this wild uncontrollable former stray and I just can't stop thinking about him. The fact that his presence in this senior pet/cat household would be nothing short of totally insane has yet to deter me from imagining the fun.
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| Beech |
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