We have dogs. Two of them. A yellow one and a black one.
Remember the 90s cartoon “Pinky and the Brain”? Genetically engineered mice – one brilliant and sly, scheming for world domination. The other desperate to be loved, but may have missed a few days when intelligence was being handed out. Their standard dialogue:
Pinky: Gee, Brain, what do you want to do tonight?
The Brain: The same thing we do every night, Pinky—try to take over the world!
Cooper, the yellow dog, is not only trying to take over the world – he is dead set on exploring all of it. Unfortunately, this master plan is often set in motion via the slightest opening presented in the crack of an open door.
Cooper’s former family warned us that he had some eccentricities. “Sometimes he gets out. But he’s sort of obsessed with his tennis ball. So he’ll usually bring it back.”
Here’s the real story.
Any time the lure of freedom seemed within his sights, Cooper would begin convulsing with excitement, whimpering and whining with a high-pitched chirp. His family installed an additional latch, but sometimes they’d forget to secure it.
This would inevitably lead to a crazy run through San Jose’s Almaden suburbs. (I picture this similar to the 5K races I used to run there.) The piece de resistance (which I have just now learned about) began with the standard prison break. Cooper took off down the street, lapping the block a few times, before sprinting across a busy street to an adjoining enclave.
With a hockey dad in hot pursuit, Cooper discovered an open garage door and darted into the house. Much to the delight of the three young boys residing in Cooper’s newfound residence, a crazed canine sprinted the hallway.
“Mom! There’s a dog in our house!”
<45 seconds later>
“Mom! There’s a man in slippers running through our house!”
(Fear not, I have it on good accord that it was another family from school. No police were called. Families befriended each other.)
It’s been a few years. Cooper’s 9 now. I KNOW he knows the “come” command. I thought we might be beyond these outdoor adventures. I was wrong.
This afternoon Cooper took advantage of a muppet’s dilly-dallying. He split. Dammit dog…
From the lawn across the street he eyed me. Head down; tail wagging.
He looked at me. And he thought about it. Just long enough for me to process the fact that he had, in fact, understood exactly what I commanded. And then broke into a sprint directly toward the busy intersection demarcating our neighborhood.
Suddenly a car backing out of driveway slammed on the brakes. I am not sure if the driver saw the dog or the crazy lady sprinting down the street screeching after the yellow blur of fur.
[Insert string of expletives here.]
We went tactical. Jon went in search of the car keys while I continued the pursuit to maintain a visual. We finally cornered him in a nearby cul de sac, where Cooper had become distracted by a barking dog barricaded behind a fence.
After a moment of tension, where Cooper blandly observed the open passenger side door, he trotted over and leapt into the back. This dog is going to be the death of me.
Thank goodness I’ve been forcing myself to run. However I’m going to go ahead and say we’re not going to add this into the workout rotation.