Adversaries. I stood, not even breathing, just inside the door. Gibson stood on the cement porch, not a muscle twitching. He stared at me with his big, brown puppy dog eyes but it wasn't a look of innocence or playfulness in their depths.
This was a dog with a mission, an idea, a purpose going through his head and every thought was reflected in his eyes.
Slow and silent breath. I didn't dare twitch.
He continued to stare at me.
I had just unhooked him from his chain and he was supposed to walk into the door with me. Instead, he stood there.
Outside.
He was outside where the smells, the thought of freedom, the ability to run as fast and as far as he could was all there for him.
Damn, I really needed to get that fence installed.
"Come on, Gibbs. Come in. Puppy treat." I cooed at him. Coaxing him.
His eyes light up but not for puppy treats.
Checkmate.
He's gone in about three seconds. Down the steps, across the sidewalk and into the wide world.
I watch him channel his inner gazelle as he's in my next door neighbor's yard in about two second. From there he decides to cross the street and he's about to jump the retaining wall into the next neighbor's yard when...
The thud of him hitting the wall, face first, echoes throughout the entire neighborhood. He stumbles back, looks like he's going to shake it off, takes two steps and then wobbles back and forth.
And continues to wobble long enough for me to run over to him and hook his leash on his collar.
He doesn't fight me as we walk back to the house and that's when I notice I have blood smeared across my pants.
"Gibson." I kneel down, eye level with a puppy that looks dazed and confused. Blood is dripping from his chin and onto the sidewalk. He has split his lip. Almost deep enough for stitches.
Apparently the retaining wall won that match of Puppy Loves to Escape.
He stumbles into the house and my heart sinks. I wonder just how much damaged the puppy has done to his brain with his latest antics. I'm not looking forward to telling the girls the puppy died by missing a jump.
He sits down next to Hero Hottie, his little shoulders hunched and stiff. Clearly, everything hurts.
The earlier frustration I felt when he ran off dissipates with my reluctant compassion for him. Even though this is probably episode number ten or twenty of Puppy on the Run, a show I would love to have cancelled- he is just a puppy with an owie.
I kneel down, scratching behind his ears. I'm sure he hasn't learned anything from his adventure. But for this moment, it's about comfort.
A few hours later he's fine. The downstairs trash spread across the floor proves it. And the tore up hose in the backyard...only a foot of it hangs from the spigot tells me that he didn't suffer any permanent brain injury. He was also generous to leave enough so that I can at least water the sunflower by the backdoor.
The couch cushions have once again been tossed off the couch like beanbags and now that the girls are home from school there is an air of screaming, shouting, and reprimanding as he attempts to chew their shoes while they're still WEARING them and nibble on their homework.
Abu just knows that one day she will have to tell her teacher that her DOG really did eat her homework.
I know he's only trying to help me with my goal to declutter my life by chewing up useless things we don't need, such as X-Box controllers, shoes, toys, and furniture.
I realize that it's so much fun to be outside, and why does he have to wait on me to do it.
I know he doesn't realize I gave him a new name, No, no. I'm going to get rid of you.
He's a puppy. A busy, chewy, can't sit still nor behave puppy.
My advice for anyone wanting to adopt a puppy...skip the puppy, get a dog.
A mellow one.
Or you can borrow mine. He would love to visit. Just hide your shoes. And your valuables. And your trash. Oh, and don't forget- hide anything that can be destroyed by teeth.
But otherwise, they are so cute and cuddly.
