On a rainy Friday afternoon, Gracie and I set off on our usual walk.
We never know what we might encounter as we make our daily rounds. But something interesting usually happens.
As always, we cruise out of the neighborhood and down the sidewalk for a couple blocks till we come to the lane that runs along the back property of the high school. We take a hard left onto that lane, and follow along past athletic fields, the first footbridge, and two portable classrooms on our right.
After the portables, we make a hard right onto a short concrete walkway that leads to a second footbridge which, like the first, carries us over a forest ravine.
And from that walkway, to the right, we get a long, clean view of the lawn behind the portables.
This, my friends, is prime rabbit country and today as we passed this very spot, Gracie froze.
And, you know, when my hunting dog freezes up, I freeze too. That's what we humans are expected to do in these situations. Stand still, be quiet, and try to figure out what your dog has already found.
Sure enough, there on that green lawn, just a few feet from the railing, Gracie had scented a big brown bunny.
The rabbit sat. Motionless.
Gracie stared without a twitch.
And I wondered who would break this stalemate.
True fact. When my girl is on the hunt, she has the patience of a saint. My money was on the rabbit.
Sure enough, the rabbit gave a quick quiver, and with a flash of its bouncy white tail, suddenly dashed off down that long, green strip of lawn behind the portables.
Instantly, Gracie leaped between the rails and rocketed after her.
And in the split second, as I stood at that railing watching my dog run off at lightning speed and noting how soon she would reach the end of her very long rope and likely yank my arm straight off, I made a quick decision.
I let go of the rope.
The high school grounds were deserted. A steady rain was falling, and we had not seen a soul since we left the main street. Surely I was taking a chance in setting my dog free, especially in her adrenaline-charged state of mind. But it felt like the right thing to do.
Well. My decision felt great as I watched my beautiful girl sail down that green lawn, a picture of athleticism and grace.
And I felt fine as I watched the rabbit race all the way down to the end of the second portable, and make a hard right turn around the far corner of the building.
But when Gracie continued her pursuit and also disappeared around that corner, I might have had a second and altogether unsettling thought.
Shoot, I murmured. That rabbit can keep running for quite a ways, back along the lane, down the paths we had just come, and who knows how far into the forest. And my dog is in red hot pursuit.
So, in a wink of an eye, I chose to act. I decided to retrace my steps down the concrete walkway, out onto the lane, and along the front of the portables to see if I could find any sign of our two sprinters.
I got as far as the first portable when I thought again. What if, I conjectured, Gracie finishes her romp and goes looking for me? If she's smart, she'll go back to where she left me. But I won't be there.
So in the wink of a second eye, I turned on my heel to head back to the place where we parted ways.
And that's when I heard it.
A familiar and heartening sound.
The scritch-scritch-scritch of Gracie's footsteps in a brisk, all-business trot along the concrete walkway up ahead,
Sure enough, she had obviously finished her race with the rabbit, hopped back up between the rails to the walkway where she had left me, and with me not there, came looking for me.
Her eyes met mine. I smiled, and she grinned back, clearly quite pleased with herself.
We met each other in the middle of the lane, and I gave her a good ear rub, a solid chest thumping, and a chorus of compliments.
We were both quite chuffed with her cleverness.
And then, having entirely enjoyed our unexpected adventure, Gracie and I walked back home where her well-earned dinner was waiting.
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