Ikecomeback again…


A few weeks ago after the last dog-chasing incident, my cousin suggested that we rename the dog Ikecomeback — similar to the way that she renamed her daughter’s dog, Starbuckbequiet. At the time, I laughed. Well, laugh no more. He is now Ikecomeback.

Yes, we have had yet another dog-on-the-loose incident, but this time there was to be no chasing. We are chased out. Besides, the husband was temporarily disabled, so my attentions were elsewhere.

It happened in this way. Truly, it did. Finished up my run with Mary Ann, picked up the boys (husband and dog) for a short (10 minute) walk before getting ready for work. That was 7 a.m. One hour, one possible broken human nose, one bloody nose, one soon-to-be-sore 60-year-old, and one very tired, wet and muddy dog later, I finally got my hot shower. What happened within that hour was not pretty.

Just one block from home, husband slipped on the sidewalk, smacked his head, nose and neck (don’t ask, don’t know), and the dog was off on yet another exploration. Confused, I looked down and realized the leash was still in the husband’s hand, and dangling at the end of it was the collar, complete with tags. Houdini-like, Ikecomeback had somehow managed to de-collar himself.

This time, there was to be no chasing of the dog. I distinctly remember hearing someone say “Stupid dog”, but honestly, I don’t know who said it. All I know is that neither of us gave chase. Instead, I helped the limping, bloody man toward our house. Oddly, Ikecomeback really DID come back — if briefly. Led us home, then took off across the street.

Left the husband lying down, ice on his neck, a bunch of kleenex in hand, and drove around looking for a Schnauzer on the loose. A few blocks from home, I saw him trotting through someone’s yard. Remembering my boss’ comment that the chase was a game, I parked and sat on the curb.

Ikecomeback sidled over to me, but ran when I moved one inch. He stopped to bark at several dogs behind a fence, then ran through an open gate into a — fenced — yard.  About this time, my brain kicked into fifth gear and I slammed the gate behind both of us.
Still refusing to chase, I sat on a bench and prayed that the owners of the house were (a) not home, or (b) asleep.  I sat. I sat some more. Waited. Waited some more. Thanks to my four older brothers, I learned long ago to not give in easily. The dog trotted back and forth between the gate, an empty pond, every corner of the hard, scooting past me if I so much as peeked.
Midway through the standoff, the husband, roused by my phone call (yes, I remembered it this time), tottered up to stand guard at the gate. I suppose this could have gone on all day, but I had better things to do. So…thanks again to my brothers who taught me to be tricky, I threw my coat over the dog, grabbed him and headed for home. 
His punishment? Second bath of the week. I suspect he’s still sleeping off that one. 
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s