During our first couple months we would walk about a half mile to the little league games down the street, where some of Dads human friends would gather. That walk always makes me nervous. There are loud noises and cars driving down the street. About fifteen minutes into one walk, a van suddenly pulls out screeching its tires about fifteen yards from us. I bolt, there is a ping, the collar feels loose and Dad is behind me running and screaming “Essex come back, Essex…..” Heck, I am scared; I’m not stopping for Dad or even the Great Dane. I ran all the way home, checked both gates in an effort to get in my yard, no joy.
I started wandering down the street some more, when I hear a friendly voice. It is Dad’s friend and neighbor Frank. Frank was driving to the game and saw my mad dash and subsequent attempt to get in the yard. Frank makes my tail wag. I let him picked me up and I see Dad franticly searching and calling my name.
Next thing I know Dad is in the car beside me. Some Dads might scream or hit you, not mine. He gave me a big hug and talked to me in that calm voice. He said he was scared and worried I might get hit by a car. Dad latter figured out that he had attached the leash to the metal clip my rabies tag was on instead of the metal loop on the collar. Dad now double and triple checks that attachment. I don’t have any pictures of the mad dash. So instead here are some pictures from those first two months in Key West.
Before signing off, I, Deacon and Dad want to wish following two things on today, 30 June. Dads nephew, Matthew, and his bride to be Janet have a pawtastic wedding; and a dog gone Happy Birthday to Rick, his college roommate.
Dog Speed,
Essex
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