I've previously posted "Maddie isn't for whimps"; if you can't take a line being pulled for over a mile at a time, you don't need to take this dog with you. Pulling is what most people immediately attempt to curb once they acquire a Siberian, but I attribute a good pull to "good drive and a good working Siberian" - I know this seems like crazy philosphy coming from someone who is never going to hook dogs to a sled and take off through frozen tundra, but it was my way of working my dogs. I don't complain about the pull, ever, it was my conscious decision to endure, and even pursue it, with my dogs. However, when it comes to running with her, even I can be frightened by her speed on a downhill, or on a rocky/rooty trail. I wouldn't turn her loose on someone who didn't have a good sense of their footing and an ability to stay tuned to their surroundings; well except for me that is.
This past Saturday Dave and I headed out with the dogs for our regular run at the river. We began with casual conversation, and the usual admiration of our surruoundings. I began the trail with Maddie, Dave had Mira. I was running the shoulder, while Dave was in the middle of the trail. Less than a quarter mile along the path Maddie lept off the path and bounded into the brush. She didn't particularly pull me or jolt me, but it definitely got my attention; I had to stop to get her out of the brush as the "targeted" squirrel scampered to safety. Every hair on her body was on alert, she was obviously delighted at the possibilities of her hunt as I pulled her back onto the path. I was laughing out loud when an oncoming runner swerved into our path to note "she really wanted that squirrel!". We both laughed as Maddie and I began to jog again to catch back up to Dave and Mira.
The dogs, the trail, and the river or mountain just give me so much pleasure that I cannot begin to express how much I really enjoy our times out there. And when the girls do something "doggy" it just tickles me to death. I remember these moments and can recall them vividly in my minds eye on a whim, they simply delight me. It is no surprise that I was caught up in the moment, still laughing, when my right foot caught a root and I flew forward onto the ground.
I never let go of the leash (all Siberian owners can attest that you don't EVER let go of the lead...), I didn't see anything other than the pea gravel fastly approaching my head when I rolled onto my back and let my head somewhat softly "bang" onto the trail. At some point I made the unconscious decision to close my eyes, I suppose it was a defensive move most contact lens wearers would automatically make. When I opened them, I was looking into the amber eyes of my gal Maddie. If you know me well, you know that I began to laugh immediately. The sound of my laughter is all she needed, and she began to clean the dust from my face and wag her tail wildly. Her demeanor seemed to say "why are you down there again, c'mon, we are behind...let's go!".
Tonight I sit with road rash on both knees. The left leg and ankle are swollen and I'm missing spin class. I look across the living room and she's stretched across the sofa happily snoozing away. Would I go back 12 years and change my attitude toward her pulling, nope not for a minute. Would I go back 72 hours, or so, and look down at the path ahead of me, yep you betcha!
No comments:
Post a Comment