First, let me say I adore my dogs. I wouldn’t have made it through the deployment without their companionship. I’m probably more attached to Darcy and Scout than I should be after the year of being with them and without Mark. They cuddled with me when I cried and was sad, and they were always there to make me feel loved when I walked through the door. But today, I almost killed them.
We’ve been working on trying to get Darcy and Scout to listen to us outside of the fenced yard, so we let them go in the garage when Mark is out there working or let them accompany me while I water the plants in front. Scout is usually exceptionally good at staying near you. Darcy has been a nightmare in the past, but we’ve had some real success with her so thought that maybe she was finally growing out of it. I think we were wrong. My attempt to have them outside today was a nightmare.
I took at 45-minute walk this morning (while it was a cool 80-something outside) and was waiting to cool down so I could shower. I decided I should probably water the plants in front. I don’t know why I decided to let them BOTH out…probably because they had been SO good the last few times. I even took Darcy on a walk to get the mail with me last week, and she didn’t pull. Anyone who has walked her knows what a triumph that is!
So anyway, I let them out, and they obediently go with me to the side of the house while I fill up the watering can so I can water the plants. They were being great…until an adorable six-year-old boy started walking down the street. A minivan with his mom and two siblings was at his side. The van passed the boy, and Darcy took off, keeping up with the pace of the van. I got Scout inside, but didn’t get the door closed, and upon seeing Darcy high-tail it down the street, Scout was off to catch up.
So here I am six full months pregnant, trying to run down the street to catch BOTH of my dogs. The little boy said he’d help and he could run to get them with me. I was mortified.
So the van stops, the mom gets out, and what does Darcy do? SHE JUMPS IN THE VAN. Right through the driver’s seat. She climbs into the back of the van and just sits there. She didn’t bark (which as anyone who has ridden with her can attest to as a miracle). She just sits there smiling.
Meanwhile, Scout’s standing on the sidewalk next to the van. I’m simultaneously apologizing to the mom, muttering how Darcy is nuts and loves cars and kids, and am yelling at her to get out. The mom reprimands Darcy for making her pregnant mom (me) run after her and jokes that Darcy just wanted to go to the pool with them.
In reality it was only minutes, but it felt like at least 10 or 20 minutes, I get Darcy out of the car. I grab her and Scout by their collars and start walking them home. The mom asks if I need help; I say no…Scout is putting up a fight. She wriggles out of her collar (which we only loosened because the vet told us it was too tight a few weeks ago). She heads for the house and just waits between our yard and our neighbors. I’m left carrying her collar, hoping she doesn’t bolt now that she’s collarless and without our contact information. I yell at her to get inside since the door is cracked. Luckily, she runs inside. I drag Darcy inside, kennel them both.
So, what did I learn? I should just have the dogs help me meet people in the neighborhood right? I can be the crazy pregnant lady who let her dogs get loose? And I learned that the dogs aren’t allowed out in front for a LONG WHILE and they are only allowed out when Mark and I are BOTH out there to watch them. I love both of them dearly, but today they are the damn dogs.
