Lassie

Samuel Adams is our 'enthusiastic' German Shepard mix. We picked him up from the shelter about six months ago because 'everyone needs a farm dog.'

Sammy enjoys country life tremendously. But we keep him on a leash fearing the possibility that he will run off into wild blue mountains of The Huasna, fall in some ditch and get eaten by equally-enthusiastic coyotes. I tell that story so much that nowadays I ask everyone first whether they have heard it before.

After his visit to The Dog Whisperer (Ceaser Milan of National Geographic fame), Sammy was behaving much better. Ceaser will tell you that less affection is more, and more exercise is even better yet. With our new found wisdom about domestic canine needs, Susan and I began to experiment with Sammy off leash for short time periods and highly controlled circumstances.

One of our first attempts was to 'walk' him off leash around the perimeter of our property. I told Susan 'let's see if we can get him to sense where his familial boundaries are.' 'Right,' says Susan.

Everything went pretty good and he stayed on the parcel. Pretty good until he started exploring one of our seasonal streams. Turns out that one very large cat also likes to explore that stream. Our kindly neighbor's cat, as it turns out.

The cat is a real fast runner. Not quite as fast as Sammy, but fast enough to make it up into one of our large Oak trees. I'm not really positive, but I am fairly sure that just one swipe from that feline would have knocked Sammy on his duff. At least, that's what happens in the city with his cat friends who stand up to him and give him a good whack. Sammy keeps a wide berth of all those brave city dwellers.

Susan's typical response in these cases is merely to scream. I can't particularly understand what she is saying and Sammy confirms the odd mincing of words by not doing anything except continuing with what he was previously doing. Chasing our neighbor's cat.

Off leash test #1 is thereby ended. Susan apologizes to cat-in-Oak. Sammy prances around the base wishing he had claws. (Sammy now looks up into ALL trees.)

After cooling our heels for a day we let Sammy off leash again while we were tearing down one of our decrepit chicken coops. There was light rain at the time. We were cold and we were sure that the dog was equally cold, having an addled brain for the moment at least, with no interest at all in chasing other living creatures.

It worked like a charm until a particular cow was spotted on the other side of Bobcat lane. Sammy has had words with this specific cow before. Now was his chance to really get up close and personal. And there was a bull right next to the cow. Even better yet!

I never really thought much about how quickly a cow is able to move. Sammy ran up to the cow and noticed that it was much larger than the cat from yesterday. The cow also had turned around and started to make bucking motions. The bull likewise began to aim his small horns toward the general direction of this nuisance.

It may take a while, but some things do eventually make it through Sammys thick thick skull. He stood back and away from the two large objects. He considered his options. He heard screaming gibberish coming from the direction of his now-running mistress. He wondered about the possibility of barking (which never hurts).

Sammy then thinks, 'Oh well. I guess I'll go towards the running mistress because no matter how mad SHE looks, it's a whole lot better than how mad the other two large objects look.

Sammy is put in solitary confinement for the rest of eternity. Susan and I swear by our heart of hearts that he will never be trusted again off leash.

Experiment #2 ends.

Next morning at 7:30am I was encouraged to rise by this cute canine imp who carries his 'doggie toy' around in gentle circles looking for attention. With doggie toy in mouth, Sammy issues a faint whine emanating from the rear of his throat. His ears are back in submission. The huge tail is thumping against walls and chaisr.

It's time for a walk! Martin notices that the outside temperature is pegged at some 30 degrees. He notices that all neighbor's roofs are white with frost. But it IS time for a walk. Right now.

We headed up Bobcat Lane. My arm was being pulled off due to all of the stuff which needed to be sniffed along the side of the road. Getting towards the top of the Lane I could view a fabulous canyon, everyone's fireplace smoking away from all of our neighbors also feeling the pinch of 30-degree mornings. My jacket was warm. My pup was beside me thinking about how nice it is to have such loving owners. Life is safe and good this morning. Here was a good chance for man's best friend to lope next to him (man, that is) as God intended: naked of leash. On this quiet country road, on this beautiful cold morning.

If you count to 3, that is the length of time it took Sammy to distance 200 feet between him and I, after clicking leash off of collar.

At first I thought this was pretty fun because he was exploring all manner of thing at full throttle. But as the distance between canine and man increased from 200 feet to 500 feet to 1000 feet, the fun seeped went away. This was a case of dog with his nose 6 inches off the ground and thousands of holes needing inspection and other creatures he felt sure needed to be chased.

Sammy ran up the side of the hill, then parallel to Bobcat Lane, then up into one of our neighbor's parcel.

This neighbor has horses, cats, dogs, big barns, old junk, big water tanks, plus many other interesting objects of canine desire. The houses are situated on the side of the hill. Behind the hill are other hills. Behind those hills even more.

At first I could see Sammy running back and forth up the side of the hill. Then I couldn't see him at all.

After calling many times I went back to our cabin and told Susan the news. I called our neighbor for permission to search his parcel which he gladly allowed. I picked up our binoculars and drove Susan over to the last place spotted. Susan went one direction as I headed up into the hills.

Huasna hills are overgrown with shrub. As I heard Susan calling out Sammy's name, I continued up towards the top of a crest and called over and over again. It was extremely difficult moving through the shrub. I had to fight my way and eventually became completely worn out. A few times I couldn't continue and had to backtrack. Then I had to sit down for short periods of rest.

Calling Sammy's name in the canyons, without response, made me anxious and depressed. I did not think that he would be able to survive a cold night like wild animals could. I was sure he could not remain alive if attacked by a coyote or wolf or feline of any type. My mood sank into desperation and sorrow. I had killed my loved dog!

Susan also was slipping deeper and deeper into melancholy. If Sammy were to find any other animal, he would have at least let out a bark. But there were no Sammy barks.

Susan looked through our neighbor's property calling Sammy Sammy. It DID seem a little bit odd that our neighbors had other animals which normally interest our enthusiastic comrade. But he was no where to be seen. No where to be heard.

Susan ended up traversing across the side of that hill. Still calling. On a whim she looked down towards our parcel, and what does she happen to see but a very bad bad doggie running through OUR property and inspecting ground holes not previously considered.

Susan went down to Bobcat Lane, called Sammy, and waited as he happily trotted over to her with that 'hey, where ya been?' look on his face. He went into solitary confinement for the rest of his life and for all remaining time of the universe.

Then Susan rounded me up. I was pretty glad that I had not killed the dog. But there was no guarantees that I WOULDN'T kill him next time that I got my hands around his furry neck.

He survived the weekend and so did we. Barely.