Run, Fudge, Run!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Saturday started out like every other Saturday for us.  We always walk the dogs together up at our local park.  We usually discuss this and that on the way up and this Saturday, I got to telling John that I had taken a  “Mental Age Test,” and wanted him to guess the results.  Just that morning I had announced we had been together 40 years and both of us agreed that it seemed much longer, so I guess it speaks to my good nature that when he guessed my mental age as four, I just laughed.  We have had snow and ice for a good portion of the last two weeks, but the wacky weather temperatures were in the sixties on Saturday and a lightweight coat was all that was needed.  John is usually in charge of putting the prong collars and the leashes on the dogs, while I run around trying to make sure I have poop bags, my car keys, cell phone, and my head on my shoulders.

 

The great thing about where we walk is it is a campground and from November to April the campground is closed and other than an occasional service vehicle, no cars are allowed down the roads.  In fact, the roads are normally gated off, which makes it nice for us, since just recently our dogs have adopted a new behavior led by Fudge, of course, and bark at cars that go by.  White cars and trucks, in particular, up Fudge’s excitement level and when I see one coming I try and put both dogs in a sit position, position myself between the dogs and the car, and tell them to be quiet.  This works about 20% of the time and the rest of the time I yank them in the opposite direction and try and find a quiet spot to kneel down and pray that I don’t kill these two dogs. I also always glare at the driver of the car to let them know that my misbehaving dogs are entirely their fault. Well, we were walking along talking about the huge coincidence that my mental age of 29 was exactly the same as my age and out of nowhere we see a white car coming up the road that is supposed to be closed off. 

Now, at this point in the story is where the two people involved start to disagree about the facts, but I have always believed there are two sides to every one of my stories, my side and the incorrect side. We are now at the place where we start to split hairs.  As often happens when John and I are involved in any mishap, we turn on each other, and Saturday was no exception.  We both saw the car at the same time and I said we should cut into the woods.  The problem was I immediately got into full survival mode and realized the urgency of the situation and John did not.  In my opinion, he was lollygagging or dawdling, if you will, and by the time he got his lolly in gear, the car was right there and the next thing I knew, a brown flash of fur was running free and directly towards the car. 

Somehow, Fudge had gotten out of her prong collar and I started screaming that Fudge was loose. I immediately blamed John for not putting the collar on correctly and he insisted that she had twisted free.  In either case, Fudge was off the leash and was leaping, prancing, and flying about without a care in the world.  I also began to suspect that the Poodle part in her was French Poodle, because it was as if we were speaking a foreign language to her and she had never heard her name before or the words, come, here, sit, or down. 

 

The white car stopped and I am sure the people inside were enjoying their Saturday morning matinee featuring one brown dog circling their car and two adults screaming every command they have ever used on the brown dog, interspersed with bits of conversation about who was to blame and who had better catch Fudge.  We almost had her at one point and John waved the car by and off she went again in hot pursuit of the car, followed by a not very happy John.  I had Vern, so I went into the woods and called her name repeatedly hoping she would want to join us there.  I quickly surmised by the way she kept chasing the car, that her answer was no to our invitation to resume our walk in the woods.  All I could see through the trees was one angry man and a Doodle running free with ears flying. At times like this, Fudge always reminds me of Mary Richards in the Mary Tyler Moore Show where Lou Grant (her boss) asks her if she has spunk and she answers yes, and he says, "I hate spunk."  I think John hated spunk at that moment, too.

Luckily, the car had to stop again because the road was barricaded and Fudge either pooped out or decided that when John screamed SIT at the top of his lungs it would be in her best interest to sit and she did.  He got her and as they walked back to us in the woods, Fudge seemed in no way contrite and in fact, there seemed to be a spring in her step that had been missing when the walk started.  There was no spring in John’s step and his only question seemed to be why I had remained in the woods rather than help chase Fudge down.  Frankly, we both know I couldn’t catch a tortoise on a good day, so I felt he was just trying to make one of his dumb points at my expense.  I also told him I was hoping Fudge would hear my melodic voice through the woods and seek out the beautiful sound on her own. 

He said if melodic meant shrill and loud he was surprised my plan did not work.

 

I am joking, but while this was happening, we were both panicked because Fudge’s prey drive is so strong we were afraid it would lead her too far away from us to catch.  We never let her off leash for this reason.  We also realized we have gotten very lax with her recall and we need to take additional precautions to secure her on leash.  The “what ifs” kept me up a little last night….what if she had encountered another dog?...what if she didn’t come back?...what if she had jumped up on that car rather than just circle it?  Luckily, none of that happened and she only scared us half out of our wits.  She was tired the rest of the day. I guess getting on the Naughty list can do that to a dog.  Meanwhile, I have decided that the white car is entirely to blame and none of this would have happened if the driver had not tried to go down a barricaded road. I have always been good at passing the buck. It is how I sleep at night.

[Nouk]

Haha! Great story with happy ending!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Thank you, Linda!!

[Linda, Charlie Brown and Beau]

I've been away from DK for a week and this is the first story I saw.  Always love your writing Laurie - Fudge makes me LOL!  And that photo of Julie I mean Laurie Andrews is too funny!  Thanks again for all the giggles you have provided me in 2013!

[Bonnie and Kona]

It's always Dad's fault. That's perfectly obvious!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Nancy, Yes, it is embarrassing and we need to get back to training, too. I need more hours in my day :) I would not even attempt Santa photos. LOL

Bonnie, BG has a solution with a caribiner. I have no idea how to spell it. LOL Ask her to tell her how she does it. We just found a double clip thing at a sporting goods store and we are going to try and clip it to both collars. Thank you for knowing it was John's fault :)

[Bonnie and Kona]

F, I looked at the link. You are right. The ones you have are nothing like the ones we had. I think we better get some for our guys. It would make things so much easier! 

[F, Calla & Luca]

Bonnie, the link I gave below is for custom made prongs that have never opened by accident. The scissors, like closures, ready made, apparently have been a problem.

[Bonnie and Kona]

Truly a wonderfully written blog, but I have to talk more to you about the prong collar situation. We have had dogs and pronged collars for decades. When we got Owen we were in a training class that had special easy to put on Herm Sprenger pronged collars. Well, what a marvelous invention! Wrong! Within a week our strong-prey-drive-horribly-behaved doodle with no desire to please his humans twisted out of it. Thank heavens we were in a fenced park or we could have had a smooched doodle instead of a doodle with burning ears due to the expletives and threats coming his way. Now we have a not easy to put on prong collar that got so twisted up in the move (what could a moving company do to a pronged collar?) that we cannot use it either. 

I am so very glad John was able to catch Fudge since it was his fault she got loose anyway. And those irresponsible white car people should be jailed. 

[Nancy, Ned, Clancy, and Charlie]

Isn't it embarrassing when we realize that our dogs have become command deaf?  We realized it when we took the boys for pictures with Santa.  The ONLY reason we ended up with great pics is because the photographer is professional and a doodle owner, and that Santa really was great with dogs.....  We are working on our doggy remedial skills right now.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Lisa, I love how you summed it up so nicely!! Perfect! LOL

Janie, Thank you! Now I know I can blame Fudge for my gray hairs. LOL

F, Thank you!

Cheryl, LOL....men...who understands them? Thanks for your support. It was scary, but ended well. Sweet Oliver...good to know Fudge and Vern are in good company with the selective hearing.