We have a hand-me-down dog. And, while I would like say that this was all part of my larger Simple Year plan, it’s really just a coincidence. We actually got Jack, the black lab-ish retriever, last October from the Humane Society somewhere deep in the heart of West Texas.
He had been there since February. Which is WHY, in my opinion, he should be a little more grateful about his current living situation. But, while sweet and friendly, he’s as sharp as a marshmallow; except when it comes to figuring out ways to run out the front door, at which point he channels his inner greyhound and “runs like hell”.
He also seems to have some inner gauge that causes him to do this at the absolute most inopportune time. The last time Jack dashed off on his own personal Iditarod was a morning in which I had a meeting, Kelsey had a field trip and Kayla had a morning tea to celebrate England, (or
something that required her to dress in party clothes and insist on a fancy hairstyle which added about 15 minutes to the morning routine). As I stood there in the driveway, having only had 6 hours of sleep (this, I am finding is not uncommon when you are a working mother with a deployed husband) with the kids loaded, I actually contemplated driving away.
I may have even said it aloud-and my kids heard it. At which point they cried and I felt bad (this, I’m finding is ALSO not uncommon when you are a working mother with a deployed husband).
So off I ran after the ingrate. I caught him about a quarter of a mile away, joyously cavorting down a walking path. I am new to this neighborhood, so I can only imagine my neighbors reaction as a strange woman in black pumps and a lilac twin set, half dragged, half carried, a 70 pound dog down the walking path while simultaneously letting loose a string of expletives that would have made Eminem blush.
After much consideration, this evening, I went online and ordered one of those shocking collars, second hand, like the dog. Incidentally, there were 5,903 used “training” collars, which I find- well, shocking. Now, several of you are going to think I am the problem, not the dog and still others are going to message me with “gentle” ways for me to train my dog, at which point I will ignore you—or invite you over– to chase the dog.