I was eating breakfast at the computer; George was sitting on the grass outside the window. I glanced at the computer screen then looked out of the window: George had disappeared. That's okay; we have a large garden he can wander round. But I had one of those gut feelings that all was not well in the house of Hinds. I went outside - in my nightie - and called him. No response. I wandered all round the garden calling. Still no response. I went in the house, upstairs and dragged clothes on over my nightie. Back downstairs I couldn't find my slippers so went outside in my bedsocks.
George was just coming down the footpath by the side of our house. I called him; he ignored me. I called him again; he took off down the lane in front of our house. I chased him. He stopped to sniff some bricks. I crept up on him in true Glasshopper-fashion - and grabbed his collar. He sat down. If you've ever tried to drag a large seated dog you'll know how difficult it is.
I released his collar and started the good cop routine. 'Come on, George, let's go and get you a TREAT.'
Each time I mentioned the word his ears pricked up but he didn't. Then he ran onto the brambly weedy muddy bank opposite. On the other side of this bank is a road that is busy at school-times (which this was) so there was nothing for it but for me, in pale cream bedsocks, to wade in after him. I grabbed his collar and this time I didn't let go until I'd thrust him back in through the gate.
We walked up the steps. George looked at me. Then he looked at the hedge. Then he looked at me again. Then he headed straight to his escape route and burrowed out. I was so amazed at his audacity that I just watched, speechless. But he'd blown it now: he'd revealed his secret and I could block it up again! Ha ha ha.
So he's safe in the garden now. Until the next tunnel.
xx
13 comments:
It's all go where you are, Liz. George is never boring.
so strange, doggies can be even more retarted than toddling children, who think they've gone invisible because their hand's over their eyes...
on my chinchilla link i found out that they will cease nibbling their wooden floorboards if you find it annoying. but you cannot get them to permanently cease. they'll only stop while you're in the room with them.
supposedly it all boils down to the fact that the chinchilla brain DOES understand that their activity might annoy you and you don't like it but do NOT comprehend the concept of not being ALLOWED to do something!
So enjoyed this post. It reminded me so of my dear departed dog, Roco. Long story, but I'll just say that I once chased him across the fields into the neighboring housing development in my PJ's and robe. He did NOT get a treat after that episode.
Now that wasn't a very smart move for George!!!
George has been watching too many war films.
He's certainly not boring, James. Tiring, exasperating, frustrating ...
Gledwood your blog keeps crashing my puta again. I will keep trying to visit. I hope Spherical has turned up!
Rose, what sights we dog-owners must be to the general public!
No, cherrypie, he's not as clever as he thinks!
Beaman, I keep switching off the Great Escape video but he keeps putting it back on!
sounds just as bad and as much hard work as having teenagers...
You must be getting rather exasperated with him. Have you taken him to obedience school?
Those old ladies are hard to kill after all.
Time for dog obedience training Liz. George is just a little devil and time to sort him out.
I wish I could borrow George, I fancy a good walk across the frosty Fenland fields this morning.
And I expect you know that eating breakfast at the computer is a very bad habit Liz.
Nighty and bedsocks.....such a lovely picture!!
I've tagged you. Sorry! Come over and get it
Oh, Sally, I think he is indeed going through every stage of adolescence!
Leslie, the problem with retrievers is that theyr'e stubborn. Harvey was the same. He knew what he was supposed to do; sometimes he just didn't want to do it.
jmb, when we took Harvey to dog training, I was the one who got shouted at!
ellee, yes, I do! It's gorgeous here today.
It's the hairy legs in between that really add the finishing touch, suburbia.
You had better keep a watch out for George's next plan, A vaulting orse or a ssupicious glider in the attic are tell tale signs that he is planning another breakout.
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