The Joy of being a Dog
Run, Dog, Run
We’ve got a North wind blowing in the grand metropolis of the Greater Bippus Area. The weather is turning to a more seasonal late November mode. Snow is projected for tomorrow evening, with accumulation. We shall see.
With that in mind, Old Uncle Milton got the dogs, and *escorted* them beyond the invisible fence, to the lesser outback. The area out-back of the grapevine and its protective windbreak of pines is a field of grass. Way on the west end is a triple row of pines just inside the property boundary. A buck has been back there, rubbing those pines as he *marks his territory* and Old Uncle Milton wanted to see how much new damage that buck had caused.
A walk with the dogs would be a good opportunity to survey the damage.
There is a mowed path around the out-back, with another path running down the middle. Milton and the dogs made it to the far end as a group, then turned to walk along the back path. When they got to the middle path, the little white dog, (Wifey’s dog) turned and headed away, and then got out of earshot, still going away. The retriever came back when called. But Wifey’s dog was just gone.
As Milton and the retriever got to the second far back corner, they paused to look around, and then, like a lightning bolt, Wifey’s dog came zinging down the path. He zoomed on past, and just kept going, stretching out and really striding, and then was gone.
Moments later he reappeared, making the circuit, and still striding heavily.
Why do Dogs Run Like That?
Dogs love to run, and Wifey’s dog was just living it up in a grand fashion. He panted heavily as he passed by the second time. But he was running with purpose, and one might imagine, the little speedster was smiling as he tore past.
Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from that dog.