Tuesday, 8/17/2013. Simon! At home the little rascal wanted desperately to go along, barking and carrying on with the other two dogs, but when we got to the trail, he wouldn’t walk. First, he would not cross the street to get to the trail. He would not go right to go up the hill toward town. He would not go left to take the park trail around the BMU building. Then he heard Dexter baying off in the distance where the others were.
So we crossed the road and started down the Memorial trail, for a bit, presumably to find Dexter who had quit baying. Suddenly Simon seemed to realize where he was and that he had determined not to go there. He stopped and gave me the look. I tugged. He froze. We turned around and went back to the parking lot. This time he would not turn right to go up the hill as he usually does. Instead, he started across the parking lot. I thought he was going to the car and wanted to go home. By this time I was ready to oblige.
However, he walked past the car, kept on going across the parking lot, through the grass, across the black-topped trail, and up to the tree and shrub line. From there we followed the shrub line right, along the creek and around the bend to the bridge. At the bridge I got him to cross the road and follow the creek and tree line on the other side of the road around the wide grassy field.
A woman with two dogs in the field got his attention. He was willing to turn right to walk toward the swiftly disappearing woman with dogs. He issued a few perfunctory barks, went back to the tree line and moved toward the street. I thought I had it made. We will get to the sidewalk, go up the hill, and we will get to go home. I should have known. He’s a dachshund with his own agenda.
When we got close to the sidewalk, he started to romp, through the grassy field, here and there, nose to the ground, snuffling into holes, sending up bugs and seeds, having a marvelous time. I was like the foot of a compass; he was the pencil that made the circle. I tried to move him to the sidewalk to no avail. He was determined to romp. I began to worry, for if Mary did not come with the car, I had no idea how to get him to move toward home, and we had been walking and romping now for a good 45 minutes.
But Craig went up the hill in his truck with his dogs; I yelled at him to call Mary and tell her to come get us. He did, she did. She was still in the parking lot on the east side of the building, talking to two dachshunds, fortunately. I was in the grassy field on the west side of the building talking at one dachshund. She saw us, I waved, she waved. She sent Frollie racing down the walk to us. Simon saw Frollie coming, sat down in the grass and was at least interested. When Frollie (such a Sweetie) reached us, Simon decided he could follow her down the long trail to the car. We did.
I have no idea what provoked such behavior. The heat and humidity were bad again, and I know he does not handle those conditions well. There were other dogs on the walk which sometimes he is okay with, sometimes not. I thought perhaps his feet were sore, but he did not limp and two days earlier, we walked a mile and a half on city sidewalks without any trouble. This time we managed to do a good mile, according to my pedometer, just romping in the doggone field, so to speak.
The next time we will start from the house and, as Yoda might say, we either do or not do. No more parking lot follies.