I'm feeling a little grumpy. Read on with caution.
It had been a lovely, quiet weekend at home until this morning. I arrived home for the weekend late Friday night after a school function, greeted by... oh yah, no one. Even the dogs hardly acknowledged my existence - and that is a very bad sign. Maybe my bad weekend started there.
But Saturday was lovely. Ange was at hockey all day, Ben (the house-sitter during the week) was out, Mike was in Bulawayo playing hockey and I had the house to myself. I woke up early (for a Saturday at least) and took the dogs for a walk on the golf course. They've been in withdrawal because Mum and Dad are gallivanting in North America and they are sorely pining for their morning walks with Mum. On the weekends that I am able to come home, I take them. The mornings right now are crisp and fresh and the nip in the air has attitude but hasn't yet become mean. The golf course is quiet before 8am and after walking around for about half an hour as the birds' voices begin to thaw out and the sun starts to creep onto the fairways and the glistening dew slyly winks at you, you feel grateful to be alive and positively happy. This morning half an hour after arriving at the golf course I felt there was nothing positive about being alive and mad. Okay, slight exaggeration (not the mad part) but I'm grumpy remember? It lends itself to exaggeration.
The walk started okay. I had to leave earlier and hurry because church is at 8. Pre-walk prep is never fun. It's cold out and as soon as you make a sound in the kitchen the dogs are alerted. Saku (huge Boerboel cross) races to the kitchen window and begins bouncing half a metre into the air every 40 seconds or so. Cute. No. Now you have to go outside and the bouncing continues except there is now no window between you and it. Then you have to find your crocs which, if you didn't put them up last night (which you probably didn't) have been relocated by Bingley (tiny animal-shelter toy-pom)... somewhere. Then you have to pick up the old blankets which you hung out to air yesterday but forgot to bring in over night and are now damp. Carrying blankets, dodging bounce and excited pom you need to get to the car (you've probably forgotten the car keys inside). After letting yourself in (and closing bounce and pom out) you try to lay the blankets over the seats with the doors closed. Things get easier from this point on. There is only one more stretch to get through bounce and pom to the back door. Once open, the dogs jump in and all movement dies as they sit staring, waiting, sometimes salivating, in anticipation.
At the golf course things started well. I let the dogs off the lead a little way in and they went crazy because it was even earlier than usual and the smells were so much more exciting. I saw the stray pack of dogs that roams the area in the distance and we did a wide circle in the opposite direction.
On the way back I noticed a jogger coming up behind us. He stopped running when he saw us (Saku is very large). I waved to him and called the dogs to the far side, opposite him. Fine and dandy. He continued jogging, but quite slowly and the dogs were ahead. So for his comfort I called them back and gave them some attention while he passed us towards the gate. But when I looked up from my attention-giving task, lo and behold, he was running towards us. Yes, towards me and the dogs. And when he saw me look up he said, "So what do we do now?" Well, the dogs knew the answer to that question. Here was something even more interesting that attention-giving hands: a stranger, running and speaking! So, naturally, they went to investigate. We aren't entirely sure how Saku reacts to strangers; we try to keep the two parties separate. But we do know he's a bit of a coward and when feeling threatened he gets aggressive. And strangers, well, we know how they react. This one was holding a golf stick (not sure if he was a golfer who liked to run between shots, or a runner who needed protection) and suddenly looked panicked.
In the approximately 45 seconds that passed there ensued many commands from me as I walked as fast as I could without alarming man or dog:
"Saku, wait. Stop."
"No, don't run. Just stay still"
"Bingley, come. Saku, no. No!"
"The little one's fine, just stay still"
"Saku, stop, wait. Saku."
"Just ignore him, it will be fine."
"Saku! Bingley! Come!"
"It's okay. Don't worry."
"Saku!"
I will say for the jogger, he was very brave. He didn't run. I caught up to them eventually and grabbed Saku who, while not stopping, waiting or coming at least had not done anything else. I got the dogs on the lead, the jogger went back the way he had come (I hope having learnt a lesson on what not to do when meeting strange dogs) and we got into the car, me breathing fury born of relief, the dogs... positively happy.
