Chasing Maggie Minx

I had dinner with a friend recently where we talked about a myriad of topics – from the mysterious rainstorm that deposited muddy dirt on cars all over Central Ohio – to tax preparation – to our arthritic knees. In between these eclectic subjects, we enjoyed delicious meals and drinks.

 

Somehow our conversation turned to pets that we’ve had through the years and we started talking about our various fur babies.

 

Of course, I couldn’t let a discussion about our pets not include a story or two about Maggie Minx. We laughed about all the times Maggie got loose in the neighborhood and all the lively chases that ensued because Maggie loved to run.

 

She’d take off like a shot if she found an escape route either out of the house or out of her harness. We’d see her pop up at the end of the cul-de-sac and moments later, she’d appear all the way at the other end of the street.

 

Most of the times our little escape artist got free were on Vince’s watch. I know he’s not here to defend himself, but he’d freely admit it if he were.

 

One time he and I were walking her together when he had leash duty. He wasn’t paying attention to her as she was sniffing the ground somewhere behind us, but he was pulling on the leash to keep her moving. She was stubbornly resisting as only Maggie Minx can.

 

I turned around just in time to see the entire harness/leash apparatus come over her head when Vince pulled on it. I think all three of us stood there momentarily frozen with our mouths open.

 

Naturally, Maggie was the first to understand that she was no longer required to trot along at the sedate pace we’d set – and she quickly stepped out of the harness and took off.  

 

We’d chase her. And then the neighbors would get involved. Treats were offered. (To the dog; not the neighbors.) And then another neighbor’s dog – with whom Maggie was best buds – would be brought out to join the chase to entice her home.

 

Nothing really worked until Maggie tired herself out and either came home on her own – or someone managed to scoop her up.

 

It was embarrassing.

 

I was pretty careful when I watched her and walked her. I didn’t leave the doors open for anything longer than 2.3 seconds – and, if I did, I strategically placed a leg in the doorway barricading her from possible escape. I didn’t let her back out of her harness – having seen it happen once, I was not about to let it happen again.

 

There were only a couple of times she broke free when she was my responsibility – and I would have to defend myself by saying that they were more mechanical failures than they were user errors.

 

One time was when we were walking and enjoying a beautiful warm, sunny spring day. Maggie was prancing along sniffing her neighbor doggie friends’ pee-mail and I was blithely unaware that a catastrophe was about to occur.

 

She stopped to leave a bit of pee-mail of her own when suddenly I noticed that I was holding the leash, but the other end was not attached to Maggie. It was another case of mouth open in frozen disbelief…but I was able to recover quickly and quietly walk up behind her and scoop her up in my arms before she realized she was not even remotely tethered to me.

 

Turns out the single D-ring on her harness had come apart with enough space to allow the clip on the leash to slip through.

 

Once my heartbeat returned to normal and we arrived home, I promptly tossed that harness into the trash and immediately ordered a harness with two “D” rings.

 

A backup D-ring is never a bad idea.

 

The second time Maggie Minx got loose on my watch was again technically a mechanical failure. I had put her outside on her dog run so I could vacuum in peace. She growls and bites ferociously at the hapless Hoover. Still does. Makes vacuuming ever so much fun.

 

Anyway, I finished my chores and headed out to get Maggie only to see her tearing off down the street with about a foot of plastic-coated cable bouncing merrily along behind her.

 

The cable had somehow snapped in two and, while the stake and most of the cable was still firmly planted in the ground, the hook and the rest of it was now attached to Maggie’s harness.

 

Oh sure - she looks all sweet and innocent

It was at this point that I seriously questioned why we were allowed to own a dog.

 

The facts are a bit blurry now, but I somehow got her back home and disengaged from the cable. How it snapped from the likes of a 10 lb Yorkie, I’ll never know.

 

When I finished telling tales about my little escape artist during dinner with my friend, I knocked against the wooden table and proudly stated that since I had been living at my new place, I’d never lost her.

 

I know I knocked firmly on that wooden table.

 

And then yesterday – not even a week later – Maggie escaped when she darted out of the sliding back door to the patio.

 

Plotting her next escape

It’s all because I’m tattling about Vince losing her so many times, isn’t it?!

 

This time it was definitely user error. I had walked Maggie earlier in the morning when it was still dark (darn Daylight Savings Time). Somehow Maggie picked up a piece of something, uh, no longer living – and promptly ate it before I could try to get it away from her. But, trust me, the Jaws of Life would have a hard time getting something out from between her clamped jaws if she doesn’t want to let go.

 

So I knew we were in for a rough day.

 

We came home and Maggie promptly threw up something nasty that I had to clean up. Which was both good and bad. Good, because I figured it was better out of her system. Bad, because I nearly tossed my cookies myself while cleaning up the mess. And I hadn’t even had any cookies to that point. Haha.

 

The next time we went out for a walk, it was light out and I could at least attempt to watch out for dangers lurking in the grass.

 

But that’s all Maggie wanted to do – eat grass. So, upset tummy it is.

 

When this happens, I let her eat a little grass to settle her stomach – to an extent. She won’t eat the pure pumpkin that I’ve been told will help. So I usually put her on the dog run outside the patio for a few minutes. She can’t get far because it’s not a long one. And I keep an eye on her.

 

Well, I opened the sliding glass door. Then I opened the screen door in order to go outside to fetch the cable clip, but Maggie was out the door before I could block her exit.

 

Since she (a) is older now and (b) was not feeling well, she didn’t go far. Just stood about a foot outside the patio searching for any tender new shoots of grass that hadn’t been decimated by the winter.

 

I was surprised that I didn’t panic. I calmly called her to come inside. She ignored me. I slowly walked toward her, but she kept backing a little farther away searching for grass to munch on. Finally, I got close enough while she was distracted and I was able to pick her up and bring her back inside.

 

So much for knocking on wood.

 

I was hugely relieved that it ended well. Perhaps, however, in the future I will refrain from mentioning who has lost her and simply concentrate on not losing her again?

 

I don’t think my new neighbors would be quite so willing to chase Maggie Minx.