He usually waits for me to take him on a long walk of an evening. He comes to the garden fence to give me that look that means finish up and let's go to the river.
Hearing Beau barking off in the direction of the river, I realized that he'd gone off without me and had something cornered. Fetching the choke chain and leash, I headed toward the incessant yapping. There is still enough poison ivy around that I can't just crash through the underbrush at will. It has, however, turned a beautiful red, like warning flags.
He wasn't up at the old fishing shack, where a feral cat was once trapped, nor the old barn, ditto for yet another feral cat. Beau lives with three cats, but regards any others as de trop and chases them. There was a white cat on the back deck the other night, calmly eating from the cat food bowl. Beau went berserk but was not allowed outside.
So, I thought maybe he had tracked it down. Now I was above the sound but the bank was steep and full of red flags. That caused me to have to backtrack down to the path to Fishing Beach. Coming from downriver was the unabated barking.
Beau was almost to the big bridge, circling the huge tree that had wound up there in the spring flood. He looked up when I shouted, "Leave it!" but was unable to tear himself away. He's a coon hound; that's what they do.
The shoreline is too steep for walking, so I had to go up through the sapling trees, then scramble down to the beach, then back up and over the driftwood to reach him.
As soon as I slipped the chain around his neck, Beau switched off his frantic barking . Whatever he was after had gone inside the tree; I never did see it. The choke chain is not a thing I yank on to control him. Just putting it on him calms him down and he doesn't tug on it.
It might have been possible for me to climb the steep bank above the tree, but trying to lead him seemed like a bad idea. I envisioned us tumbling downhill together like a big six-legged snowball.
Petting him and talking calmly, I led him down over some driftwood. Down at the water, I let him have a drink. When he has something cornered, I fear he will never stop his frenzied barking and will pass out or worse.
Coming back was the real adventure, because we had to make our way through stands of young maple trees growing close together on the steep bank. It was tricky because we didn't always choose the same ones to go between, plus the branches were low and the footing unsure. I am always careful to hold the leash lightly so that it can't hurt my fingers. Beau is not fond of my accordion playing, howling if I don't shut the bedroom door, but he wouldn't deliberately seize the moment because he is a dog and can't think that far ahead.
Slipping on the dry silt, I landed on my side close to a five-inch sapling spike left by the beavers. It's always fun until someone gets impaled on a spike.
We walked peacefully back up to the house. My only discomfort was caused by wearing two sweatshirts, which had been a good choice before I got snared into a rescue operation. Despite the cool evening, I was dripping sweat.
There was another time with yet another feral cat up in a tree in the field. Beau apparently was too wild to notice me putting the chain on, because he suddenly ran. For a few seconds, I had the exhilarating experience of flying through the air. As I landed on the mercifully soft long grass, I wondered how far I'd let him drag me before I let go. He noticed the extra weight at that point, and that episode was over.
Sometimes, I see parallels in the outer things that are happening in my life. An internet offer earlier in the day from one of my yarn sources offered FREE SHIPPING. Loading up my online cart with enough yarn to qualify for the freebie, I found it hard to drag myself away from all the goodies. Like Beau, I was transfixed and found it hard to Leave It! Perhaps I can train him to gently tug me away from the computer when he sees me with a glazed expression triggered by wild offers.
