…up the field at Johnson Road, pulling and pushing a black lab from one end of the field to the other? Huffing and puffing, yelling “NO BISCUITS WHEN WE GET HOME!!”? Yeah, that was me and he is mine. I must’ve looked like an evil dog snatcher (probably not helped by the fact I’m wearing all black today).
Meet Bailey! He’s a 12 year old rescue and a little bit special. Very special. Always has been. Possibly a bit senile nowadays.
I remember as a 5 year old my daughter said “Mummy, when they were giving out brains, I don’t think Bailey was at the back of the queue, I don’t think he was in the queue at all”. And a friend said “with a dog like yours, you haven’t got to just like dogs have you? You’ve got to *really* like them”. and neither of them were wrong.
Let me explain today. I mean, PLEASE let me explain today because there were definitely people around that witnessed this debacle. A man and woman the other side of field (looked like they were practicing how to aim a fishing rod, but don’t quote me on that because didn’t have glasses on and was a little bit stressed) were definitely looking at me.
I drove to the field because walking him these days just isn’t safe. He’s always been stubborn but definitely worse lately. If we’re walking him along the road and he decides he’s had enough, he’ll suddenly stop. And refuse to move. But his favourite place to do it is the middle of the road. I know. So lately I’ve been driving him to field/woods.
Anyway, it was about 3.15pm today and as I got there I thought I won’t take a parent parking space near the school, I’ll park at the other end of the road where there’s another field entrance. Mistake. Big mistake.
He gets out the car ok, bit of a sniff, off we go. No dramas. Which is great because anything of the routine throws him.
When we got to the other end of the field, the entrance that we would normally use, he thought well that’s the exit and this is the way I’m going home. I live down that way. I go home that way. And wouldn’t move.
Got lead on him as luckily he would never run off after his previous little escapade (read about that here (5 parts) : ahwellnevermind.com/baileys-little-adventure) but he refused to move. No, I live that way, I’m going that way, no more walking, want to go home. I knew there was no point walking him out of our usual exit because he’d do the same stubborn thing – he knows which direction he lives in.
I was trying to plead with him, even bending down, pretending to steer a wheel saying “We came in the car! REMEMBER?! I parked at the other end! THE CAR! THIS WAY! Oh pleeeeeasssse Bailey!!” (I didn’t do the “RIGHT! NO BISCUITS WHEN WE GET HOME!” at him until we were halfway along).
And then began what would’ve looked like I was trying to steal a dog. A combination of pleading, pushing and pulling. I’d pull for a few seconds whilst pleading, he’d start walking. For about 4 steps and then stop again. And repeat. ALL THE WAY.
And the people stared. That can’t be her dog?! Look at him! Refusing to go with her! Shall we call the police?
Finally made it to the end (like you reading this, well done) and I swear to God when we got to the car he looked at me with an “Oh yeah. Car. Whoops. Sorry” face.
Yeah, course I gave him biscuits. The flipping idiot!