Into The Great Wide Open

Bela had fans and friends in Chicago - people who witnessed her jump work every day in the public parks. We walked both in the mornings and at night with the neighbors. It was an incredibly social time for two incredibly social gals.

Now she and I take walks, always alone, usually in Hickory Hill park, a giant wooded and trailed area just around the bend from our residence. Hickory Hill is bound by not a fence, but it's enormous enough to feel as if it's its own sector of the world. You feel somehow safe and protected by its vastness.

Bela and I have now logged a little bit of (life)time together. This summer, I was able to leash-lessly lead her both to and fro our playing spot in Kentucky. She didn't scat once. So I thought we were picking up where we left off. Old-new habits die hard. "Here you go, sugar," I've said, countless times, leaning down to allow her a leashless trot. And so...she's been returned to the house by a neighbor. Flushed out of the woods by a team of cross country runners. Carried back to me by a group of young boys sledding. Apprehended by Julia, the 11-year neighborhood sage.

The first time I took her to Nic's parents house, we put her in the giant fenced-in back yard. A short while later, Nic saw a deer running behind the house. I, too, saw a deer running behind the house! Then we both realized it was a wee bit small for a deer. She'd broken free of the fence. Nic also has a fenced in yard, yet she's taken to the streets of his little town twice. She had previously remained in the UN-fenced backyard where we live without problem. But around the same time that her speedings-off picked up speed, she also began sprinting from the yard. If I so much as glanced away, she was gone. If I released the leash 2 footsteps in front of the door instead of in the doorway -- outta there. She had claimed the world for herself.

Releasing her in Hickory Hill has proven a growth opportunity. Within seconds, she's off  -- out of sight and then back in, over and over again, darting through the trees. I used to run in the direction she'd gone, yelling her name in a blood-curdling fashion. My legs would shake, my heart would quake, as a I waited what seemed an eternity. Now, I breathe in. I wink at the landscape. I twirl. Time doesn't stand still...it naturally ebbs and flows, as I wait for my sweet dog to come back.


After all of the panic and all of the fear, she has proven herself trustworthy. I can trust her to take off nearly 100% of the time she's not on a leash, but I can also trust her to return. The return on this gamble is quite literally her return. I take sausage and liver with me because she is not Hachiko. I say silent prayers each time I am surrounded by silence -- that is, the absence of the sound of her paws. 'Dear Lord, please bring her safely back to me. At which time I will reward her, kiss her head and then release her once again.'

I know there is a chance one day she'll run outside of the park limits and too close to the street. But chance can't chain her to my side. The woods are her new home and they welcome her. She is contained only by their inability to contain her.

                                    (she is the tiny brown dot with shadow in the middle)