He was a good ol’ boy of the canine variety,
born and bred in the country, lean and lanky from tearing through the woods
after rabbits and Lord knows what all else. And one fine spring day, we met.
With the sun high in the sky, the breeze from
the south just slight, and temperatures nearly perfect, “Dawg,” as he
was called, had come with his owner, who was doing some work on the house for
me. Dawg and I were about to become well-acquainted.
As he jumped from the back of his owner’s SUV,
he showed his country way right away by tearing down the sedate suburban
neighborhood’s street in hot pursuit of a woebegone cat which he promptly
treed. Terror showed in his quarry’s wide eyes. She had never seen such in
these parts. And Dawg had never seen such a strange-looking ‘coon.
I had not caught his name, but just before his
owner went inside to work, he said “Dawg” would work just fine.
Once Dawg had shown his stuff and followed his
hard-wired instincts down the street after the cat, he came back to me, had a
seat about ten yards away, and gave me one of those dog looks that said
everything. Head slightly raised, mouth opened, tongue dangling, it was: “That’s
what I do, how about you?” And his grin mimicked a mockingbird’s song.
That Dawg had a sense of humor, that he pushed
the limits most always, and that he laughed that inscrutable silent dog-laugh
at mere humans, was obvious from the get-go.
So when it came time for his owner to go to
Lowe’s for more house-fixing stuff, Dawg and I had a talk about that, as I
ushered him into my fenced-in back yard.
With his eyes flashing, Dawg knew an
opportunity when he saw it.
The back yard had just one exit, a wooden gate
firmly latched in place with a metal drop-lever at the top, about four
feet up.
Tossing him a couple of tennis balls and a
rubber ducky that honked when squeezed, I told the youngster to enjoy himself
while I worked in the front yard…and with that I made my exit.
I carefully lifted the heavy metal latch, let
myself out, all the while sensing my new friend’s intense attention to what I
was doing. That’s why, once out, I turned and reached over the gate to make
sure the latch was firmly in place. It answered with a loud, distinct clank. I
felt all was well.
It only took about three minutes. I was around
front, out of sight of the fence, when I heard the same clank again --
Dawg had seen exactly what I had done and had just let himself
out.
With that tell-tale smirk, off he went again,
stopping briefly to look back at me to make sure I was watching. I stood
amazed, and needless to say, it was not long before Dawg found another cat, and
the hunt was on again.
Only this time, the cat was an able match.
Older, wiser, and bigger, Cat led Dawg on a rambling chase
through the neighborhood. Up the street to the top of the hill, through a
yard full of surprised birds, then down the hill, and the cat was winning this
race. But if a country dog sees that, the juice gets amped up, and Dawg
lowered his head and extended his lope as though Cat was going to be
supper.
As if sensing that, the savvy feline made for
the tallest tree in the ‘hood, an old oak at the bottom of the hill, fully
50-feet high, leaves in full spring flush, cat camouflage at the moment of
need.
But Dawg was gaining while some neighborhood
kids began to cheer.
The race tightened, Dawg closing fast. Cat
looked sleek, like a jaguar racing across the Serengeti. And at just about the
last possible moment, the junior jag took a flying leap that would have made an
Olympic long-jump gold medalist proud. The kids let out a bigger cheer.
Dawg came to a skidding, barking, jumping halt
and proceeded to mark his territory with leg-lofting efficiency that no one
would broach…or so he thought.
Dawg’s diligent patrolling of his treed quarry
brooked no interruption, even that of his owner who had just returned from
Lowe’s.
But his owner somehow convinced him to
drop his vigil and get on with their first duty. They returned to my house
and went inside.
It was a full 45 minutes before the
traumatized feline in slow stealthy silence made its way down the tree.
Then the children formed up to escort Cat home.
