Dog Stories: The Ballad of Dino, the Runaround Dog
We adopted Dino, our standard poodle mix rescue, in March 2015. Gentle and loving, I remember the one disclaimer his foster mom shared before we took him home.
“He did wander off once. We found him walking down the sidewalk. It didn’t seem like he was running away. More like he was just going out for a walk.”
In our first few weeks with Dino, we experienced this runaround nature first hand. He bolted from the backseat of our car after a trip to town. He once ran past my father-in-law and out the front door prompting a family search of our neighborhood. When our son Jonathan was home from college, Dino also got away. That time, Jonathan coaxed him into the backseat of a neighbor’s car. Perhaps the only thing Dino likes better than a walkabout is a car ride. Then there was the time Dino took an unplanned off-leash adventure with me in pursuit.
It was early April and spring weather was finally making an appearance in Northern Illinois. I’d craved a long walk with Dino for weeks. He needed the activity and I needed the exercise. It was Sunday morning. No work or chores to get in the way. Let’s go.
I woke early and slipped the dogs out of the bedroom without disturbing Susan. My plan was to feed both, take Daisy, our bichon, out for a quick squirt, then go on my long jaunt with Dino.
Daisy changed my plans with her mournful gaze. “Take me too, Dad,” she seemed to say. I could never resist her big eyes. So, I hooked up both dogs and we started down our road into town.
Just outside the center of our small town, Dino stopped to do his business. I transferred both leashes to my left hand so I could pull a poop sack from my back pocket. For a moment, my grip on Dino’s leash loosened. That’s all it took.
Dino bolted toward town, dragging his leash. I followed, trying not to drag Daisy, but urging her to move her short legs as fast as possible. I knew we couldn’t keep up, but I was trying to at least keep Dino in view.
He ran past the town depot, through the restaurant district, and took a right toward the Fox River. I swear at least twice, he looked back at me as if to ask, “Hey Dad, are you coming?”
By the time I reached the street he’d turned down, I was gassed. and Daisy and I could barely jog. It was 6 a.m. on Sunday morning. There was no one around except for me, Daisy, and runaround Dino. Then a gray pickup pulled to a stop at the corner coming up the street Dino had run down.
Before I could ask the driver if he’d seen a dog, he rolled down his window and said, “Hey, are you looking for a big black poodle?”
“Yes,” I said,
“Well, he’s down the street in a parking lot and it looks like he’s waiting on someone.”
I thanked him and headed that way. Before I could take two steps, Dino came up the street toward me looking way too pleased with himself.
I’d seen this trick before. He’d gotten off leash and ran toward both Susan and me only to bolt past us and continue the merry chase. I braced myself to try to tackle him, but this time was different. He stopped just in front of me, sat down, and let me take his leash. I alternately praised and cursed him, but was so grateful that he had returned.
The three of us headed back to the picnic tables near the town square so I could get a catch my breath and get my pulse back somewhere near normal.
Since that time, Dino has settled (somewhat). We haven’t had any runaway or runaround incidents. And I’m thankful that this last time he at least met me halfway. Have a great weekend and keep a tight grip on the leash. I know I will.
