Bela revealed that she was hard to contain early in the game.
Mike had her in his mom's yard one afternoon, when he noticed she wasn't consistently present.
She was coming and going from...somewhere.
He found that she was quietly slipping out of the side of the fence, running around back by the train tracks (I do love that calming image...my dog trotting over train tracks, oblivious to anything but small mammals), and then coming back into the yard when she was done exploring. Wash, rinse, repeat.
There were bolder escapes as well. To be honest, probably one or two more than I can remember. (The brain will often turn off that which it doesn't want to recall.)
There are a couple that stand out, burned into my memory.
The horror of standing in the [Chicago Archdiocese] Cardinal's yard, watching Bela run 360's around the joint. Each second was what I thought could have been the last second before the second that I never saw her again. My head spun in circles, watching my dog mock my human desire to capture her.
The worst (can we really rate her runaways? yes, I think we can) was in Beverly. It was Thanksgiving Day. We took her to a lovely park and brought the ball out. She was into it. Oh, yes. And then...gone. In a flash. The residents of the house across the street from the park were outside. When they saw my god-awful expression and painful attempt to sprint, they yelled, "What's wrong?" -- "Our dog!", I exclaimed!
By the time I turned the corner - the one that Bela had turned a good 30 seconds before me (a LOT of time when you're talking about sprinting) and Mike a good 20 seconds (still a LOT of time when you're talking about sprinting), some other residents yelled the same inquiry, to which I responded the same.
They took no time messing around. They jumped in their van and headed down the street after my slow ass. Right before she hit 99th St. (a street with enough traffic to stop her, if you catch my drift), something happened. (God?) She turned. We threw her ball up in the air and the yellow caught her eye. We got her.
Mike and I were wheezing for a good two hours after the occurence. My legs shook for about 30 minutes (from a combination of fear and running faster than I am capable of running). Bela, on the other hand, was pleased as punch. She'd had a great little hunting escapade!
After a couple of brushes with Bela's boisterousness, I could barely take her to the park. I was paralyzed with fear. I was considering keeping her held up in the house, allowing her muscles to atrophy, running free no more. But I knew. Without her exercise, she's a miserable, miserable dog.
And we have been blessed with many months without an episode.
But recently, she has taken to running again. 3 escapes in 3 days. A terrifying percent of possibility of loss.
What is she escaping from? We don't think it's us. She seems to genuinely like us. I suppose she's escaping from captivity. She plans to return, but on her own terms and after she's done what she'd like to do. She needs wide open spaces.
I think the truth is that she's not escaping at all. She's a dog. She hears the call of the wild.
For now, we're avoiding parks with lots of trees (i.e. squirrels) and watching her like a hawk. (If you see her cock her head to the side, MOVE IN.) We give her treats every couple throws, to reinforce that it pays to return to us. I've enrolled her in another behavior class, to learn ways we can keep her tuned into us and only us.
Because she'll take a chance on a squirrel -- any one...but she's far too important for us to take chances on.
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