Bad dog, silly me

OK, OK, there are no bad dogs, just clueless owners. I actually think there are some bad dogs, such as my golden retriever, Charlie, who attacked me over a piece of banana bread years ago, raging at me and sinking his teeth into my thigh and stomach. He was a young dog and hadn't lived long enough for this to be a learned behavior; I think he was just cracked, perhaps the result of in-breeding. In any case, when I call Maddie a "bad dog" it's on a totally different level. To continue...

The "silly me" describes my lack of foresight in going for a walk in the woods at 4 p.m. My mind was still in daylight savings time, and I forgot that I didn't have that much time before darkness would start to fall.

I felt pretty perky after my relatively high (28) hematocrit level the other day, so I did something a little different at the lake. As I have before, I jogged from one tree to another, and it wasn't a big success. I'm doing my physical therapy exercises (although not every day) but my legs still have no bounce. I saw the wooded path that I used to take to a field. I'd run up the path, around the field and then back down. The path looks different because it's mostly covered with leaves, and some trees had fallen over it. As I climbed up a little further, I saw paths going different ways. It was already getting dark, and I realized that if I kept going up "my" path, I'd get confused on the way down.

I decided to just go back down at that point, but I couldn't find my own path. Maddie was being very good, running around but staying with me. I looked up a steep hill and saw houses on top, the road behind them. I figured that was the best way to get back to civilization. So I climbed to the top, with difficulty. Maddie got there first, and waited for me, until...We looked way down and saw someone with three labs. Maddie dashed all the way down to play with them. I called and called. No way I was going to go back there. Finally, she ran back up. She had rolled in something really stinky.

On the way back down to the road, I bumped into the woman with the three dogs, two black labs and a chocolate, and we had a pleasant dog talk. But the smell was getting increasingly unpleasant, and I took my leave to go home and give Maddie a bath.

This was a nasty job. Ruined collar, stinky dog, two kinds of shampoo, an unhappy me with mask and gloves and an unhappy helper, a filthy bathtub, a shaking dog spraying water all over the bathroom and then, at last, a happy clean dog dashing around the house.

I was tired, but I had to go to the supermarket to get her a new collar. The other one was just too smelly to go near. The one I came back with was too big, but it would have to do for the evening walk. The next morning I got her another one.

The sensible thing the next day would have been to keep her on the leash around the lake. But I couldn't do it. She loves to run through the woods. She picks up large sticks and shakes them, so pleased with herself that she prances. A dog like that has got to do what a dog has to do.

Silly me for letting her.