I went outside this morning at 5:30 a.m. to see the sunrise scheduled to occur at 5:25 a.m. The daylight had arrived, but I couldn’t find the sun. I looked in every direction. Our horizon was obscured so that any observable sun must be seen later during the morning. I snapped photos of the bright influence of the sunrise against the backdrop of our backyard fence.
As I walked out the front door to look for the sun, our pet Bichon Frise, Chelsea, ran past me like a bullet, attempting to run the neighborhood, as she has successfully done many times before without my catching her. Every time she has done this I have tried to run her down, because there is danger in her wild escapades. Occasionally, I have caught up with her, but not often. This time I was able to grab her as she bolted over my feet. I shoved her back inside the door, scolded her, and gently but firmly pulled her along by her collar to her personal dog door that leads to the fully-fenced backyard. She may not have understood that I was reminding her of her own beautiful, legitimate access to the outside, but I expect the next time she thinks of racing past me she will think I’m about to snatch her again. I startled her. This, at least, I accomplished.
Chelsea likes to run the neighborhood. When she tires of it, she returns home and paws the door until we let her inside. When she runs like this, calling her doesn’t work. She may be nearly deaf or she refuses to listen. I think she doesn’t hear well, but, yes, she may have selective hearing. She likes to be chased! If I get close, she speeds up her pace. If I slow down, she slows down.
Chelsea’s has a routine on her freedom runs. She makes her first stop at a neighbor’s home only two doors away. Behind a tall gate are two dogs, one of them a Rottweiler. They bark at her like they want to eat her alive! It scares me to hear it. It doesn’t scare Chelsea one bit! She trots up to the gate while they carry on their hateful warning roars. She pauses casually to piddle at the crack of the gate. Then she smells all the flowers in their front yard before continuing on through the neighborhood. This is my first reason for preventing her illicit pleasure. There are others I won’t address for lack of time and space.
Chelsea will be 13 years old this November. She’s had 24-hour access to the backyard through her dog door since she was a puppy. I hope to teach her to stop her bad habit of running the streets of our subdivision. After I scolded her this morning, she looked at me with those big, black eyes wondering if we were still friends. I gave her a dish of chicken and patted her head, assuring her that she and I were best buds.
In conclusion, I know something about big dogs from other chapters in my life. They can break their chains when they get really mad. I’ve seen it happen. And these two may not be chained. They may have only the gate between them and Chelsea, yet she seems oblivious to any danger. Such bliss! She goes merrily on her way while they noise their extreme rage. Bichon Frise means fearless and gutsy!