Dragged by the Dogs

According to the National Weather Service the Mississippi River should reach flood level (34ft) on March 24th and crest on March 26th at just under 36 feet. What does this have to do with being dragged by dogs, you may ask?

The incident started when John emailed on Wednesday (March 19) because a flood watch had been issued. Then, soon after, he called seeking first hand views of the river. Dutifully, I hooked my boys into their leashes and headed out in the cold wind and rain for a look. I hadn't changed so I was dressed in my good jeans, heels and black suede & leather jacket. We walked across the bridge that connects our community to the south end of Tom Lee Park and saw that the muddy brown waters had already spread into the fields that line the Arkansas side of the river across from Memphis.

Since it was also time for their late afternoon walk, I persisted with the boys toward Martyrs Park, about a quarter of a mile away. We walk the path at least once a day. But, Fred is a smart dog and has learned that wet weather makes him cold from the paws up so he was not being particularly cooperative. Joe-Joe, as always, was enthusiastic. He's too stupid to mind the weather. He survives on his good looks and perky personality.

We were approaching the park monument when I spied a red fox sneaking up on the bluff edge to retrieve the food left him daily by an old man in our neighborhood. (I won't comment on I what I think of feeding wild animals). So, knowing that the boys would want a chase and I could not let them do that, I quickly turned them around to head home with promises of treats and warm towels.

We were doing well on our way back (meaning both dogs pooped and peed), when up the path I spy another neighbor walking her energetic Airedale and gray wolf, each weighing close to 100 pounds. Yes, I said "wolf" as in real wild wolf. She adopted him as a rescue animal. My dogs go bonkers over that wolf, wanting to tear her to shreds. Fifty pound Fred gets vicious and 22 pound Joe-Joe makes noises, believing he's a Rottweiler. When faced with Fred and Joe-Joe in previous encounters, the wolf just sat and started howling at the sky, lamenting his predicament.

Again, I moved quickly to made both dogs sit as far away from the path as possible without falling over the edge and rolling down the bluff into the river. I squatted and held a harness in each hand. I said soothing commands like "Stay. Yes. Good dogs. Stay." In previous encounters, all that worked pretty well.

But this time, Joe-Joe began to shudder uncontrollably. Fred sensed he had a pal for an attack. Suddenly both dogs ran at the wolf, dragging me behind them. I held onto their harnesses, yelling for them to "stay". My words were useless. I was spread-eagle on the ground holding onto 75 pounds of canine terror. If either broke loose, blood could flow. They pulled me ten feet over the muddy ground, before I regained control and pulled them back. My neighbor quickly passed, Airedale jumping and wolf howling. From my prone position, face in mud, I saw her shake her head. I was sure she thought I was an idiot for using harnesses and not neck collars to control my ill mannered, crazed little dogs.

I was embarrassed, of course, and covered in mud. My hands were bruised, sharp pains radiated from the left side of my rib cage (Fred's side) and my arms dangled on the ground. Now that the wolf was gone, my two hellions turned around to look at me, sensed my frustrating anger and sweetly sat as if nothing has happened. Fred laid down at the point of my finger for he knew he was in trouble. Fred said, looking up at me pathetically, "Mom, I'm really, really sorry. It was all Joe-Joe's fault. He got me all excited. I couldn't do anything about it. It was my instincts working." Joe-Joe, on the other hand, said, "Hey Mom. Wasn't that just the best fun! Can we do it again? Can we do it again?" What is it about kids and dogs?

I was close to throwing both of them in the churning river, but I pulled myself together, retrieved my shoe, and gave them a strong reprimand. I refused to talk to either of them the rest of the night and they kept low profiles just to be nice. The next day I took off their harnesses and started hooking the leashes to their neck collars. They'll get a smart jerk that will flip them over if they try that again. And, yes, I'm searching for a trainer as I write.