The Great Escape







As I tend to the scratches and scrapes on my bare legs, I’m wondering if I should get a tetanus shot. I don’t think I was cut by the rusty barbed wire fence in the woods, but I’m not 100% sure. So, I guess I’ll just hope for the best while I try to scrape the mud off my new Nike’s. 


It is still difficult to believe that all of this happened  as the result of a dog chase - but it did. 


It started out innocently enough. I decided to take my pups, Reese and Roscoe, for a walk up the street.  No problem there.  The problem came when I  decided to play Caesar Milan, and take Roscoe off leash to see if he would still follow the pack. That decision ranks up there with eating jalapeños right after hemorrhoid surgery. In both cases, you’re gonna get burned.  


And burned I was.  Roscoe hung kind of close to me until he fully realized he was not on the leash. Then, whoosh!  In seconds, he was  a hundred yards away. I think I heard a sonic boom. Now he was up the street in our neighbor’s yards, gleefully following his nose. 


In case you don’t know, let’s review Canine 101. Dogs are faster than we are.  Dogs are more agile than we are.  And dogs are closer to the ground than we are. That means they can quickly go under the bushes that us bipeds have to go around.  This makes catching them almost impossible if they don’t want to be caught. And he didn’t. Relishing his newfound freedom, Roscoe flew from yard to yard as fast as he could.  Then he ventured a long way out into the woods that backed up to our subdivision. Sometimes we wouldn’t see him for 15 minutes, only to discover that he had flanked us and was three houses down from where we were looking.  Poor Reese was still on leash wondering why she couldn’t play too. And I was going thru alternating waves of concern, panic, and anger. 


And one of the most difficult things about chasing a dog is that they think it’s a game. So when I would get close to Roscoe, he would feign right, then cut left at full speed. He was taunting me and loving it. 


As if that wasn’t enough, I tried my best to do what the dog trainer always told us:  never sound angry when you’re calling a wayward dog.  If they think you are PO’ed, they won’t  come to you. He reminded us to talk in a high pitched, happy voice, no matter how mad we were. 


It just didn’t sound right. Me walking thru my neighbors’ backyard, yelling in a perky falsetto, “Come here Roscoe, you little black and white SOB.  Come over here so I can grab you, and choke your furry little neck!”


I’m sure he was entertained.  



About 45 minutes into the search complete panic began to set in. So I trotted to my house to get the car.  To my surprise, there was Roscoe in my next door neighbor’s yard.   When I called him in my high pitched, happy voice, he didn't even look my way.  Roscoe was ignoring me like a supermodel ignores a cheeseburger.  


I went around the house to cut him off, and by time I got there he was nowhere to be seen. Where is he?  I scanned the area until I saw movement.  Oh, my Lord in heaven.  He had made his way to the far side of the busy road that borders our subdivision. What’s worse, I can see a truck headed his way.  


No time for happy voice now. “Roscoe!!!”,  I screamed. The truck closed in. I closed my eyes.  I was not going to witness this.  


Fortunately, the driver saw him, and slowed down.  I’m breathing again, kinda.  Then unbelievably,  Roscoe came back across the street, and ran  parallel to our backyard fence. It looks like he’s running  towards me to do another one of his little fake moves.   But this time, when he gets too close I rush him.  Roscoe freezes, I grab him, and just like that, it’s over.  


We took him back in the house and rather that scream at him, I just held him silently.  Finally, my wife Carol broke the quiet and said, "Next time do yourself a favor."  Don’t ever let go of the leash, OK, Dog Whisperer?  

 

I opened my eyes, looked at the mud on my Nikes, and said, “OK by me.”


And I went out and bought a longer leash.  


Please like and share! 


Please follow me at: 

Joe Hobby Comedian - Writer


Check out my other posts at: mylifeasahobby.blogspot.com






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

God & The Rolling Stones

Image
  “'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. '” —  Jeremiah 29:11 .  It’s not often that I put a plan together that works. Normally, anything I come up with will almost certainly go awry, and that’s certainly how one of my latest schemes  began.  Amazingly, shortly after this plan of mine began to unravel, it turned 180 degrees and became one of the best things I’ve ever done. So, as a believer, I feel like that the Almighty had His hand in this - even if it was a Rolling Stones concert.  I still maintain that it was a good idea. The minute Stones concert tickets went on sale, I bought two pair - for us and another couple. Then greed took over my soul and I decided to speculate and buy four more tickets to sell at a ridiculous profit. If I played my cards right, I might have made enough money to buy a Maserati, or even a shopping basket full of groceries....
Read more

Joe Willie, Finebaum, And Me

Image
  When my cell phone rang, the name on the screen flashed Paul Finebaum. This wasn't an unusual occurrence because I had been writing jokes for Paul to use at his many speaking engagements.   We also occasionally ate lunch together.   No death threats please - I like Paul. While I don’t always care for his schtick, I know he’s not like his radio persona.  For example, once during a conversation, I told him how much I liked Pat Conroy, the great southern author. A few weeks later, Paul called me and said, “I’ve got Conroy on the show tomorrow. Why don’t you come up and meet him?  You can talk to him during the commercial breaks.”  An act of kindness I’ve never forgotten.   I digress. Unusual call or not, my curiosity was piqued. I picked up my cell, and after some chit-chat, Finebaum told me why he phoned.  “You know about that charity roast of me coming up in a couple of weeks?”  Of course I knew. The airwaves had been hawking it for ov...
Read more

Back In The Saddle Again

Image
I never officially retired from comedy.     I kind of faded into the sunset.  I suppose I could trace the time back to when Jay Leno quit the Tonite Show.  He tried to help me get together with Jimmy Fallon, but it just didn’t work out. And when I stopped writing jokes every day for Jay,  maybe the sense of urgency to “think funny” stopped.      But I firmly believe that the cumulative effect of my son’s drug addiction, coupled with him being shot, arrested, and spending 7 years in a federal prison, caused something to die in me.  It was comedy. What used to be a burning desire to write and perform shrunk to a pilot light. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. I have told close friends that dealing with all the problems my son had raped me of my spirit.  It was collateral damage from his drug use. Addiction sucks.   So, aside from the occasional smart alec remark on social media, I left comedy alone.  Oh, I would occasionally find ...
Read more