Time to break free

Posted 4/30/20

Saturday was one of those idyllic spring days when the early rising sun turns the dew to mist and the smell of what is blooming is rich in the air. The bay was inviting, the water reflecting the brightening sky. Ollie knew I would be taking the boat out

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Time to break free

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Saturday was one of those idyllic spring days when the early rising sun turns the dew to mist and the smell of what is blooming is rich in the air.

The bay was inviting, the water reflecting the brightening sky.

Ollie knew I would be taking the boat out for a row as soon as I reached for the booties. He stretched, sneezed, yawned and then shook, his morning ritual after a night in his traveling container that has become his room in a corner of the kitchen. He watched me closely, and when I sat he nuzzled me. It was nice to think this was a sign of his affection, and perhaps it is. I know that he knows that I’m to put on his collar for the invisible fence that stops him before he reaches the seawall or leaves the driveway. That means he gets to go out and explore the yard.

In addition to the fence collar, he wears a bell. It’s the only means we’ve found of knowing where he is. Ollie is a spotted coon hound we adopted some years ago from the East Greenwich Animal Protection League. He’s a southern boy and we suspect was breed for hunting. Hunting, or more accurately tracking, is in his genes. His nose is on the ground the moment he leaves the porch. Sometimes he takes baby steps, deliberately sniffing each inch of ground, even returning to recheck turf already covered before moving on.

Other mornings, as the case earlier last week, he’s rearing to go. His collar jangling, he soars off the porch. At a fast clip, tail swinging from side to side and head down he’ll cover the boundaries of the yard. Our resident rabbit, who he pays no attention to – squirrels fall into the same category of no interest targets – will bound across the yard to take cover in our center garden. Ollie doesn’t even look in the rabbit’s direction. A coon must have visited during the night. It’s not likely to have been a deer, the only other animal that I’ve known to dial up his tracking instincts. Well, cats get him pretty excited, too.

There’s no interrupting him on the hunt.

For the first time in months, he went into one of his hyper scent modes last week. We’d hear the bell at one end of the yard and in moments at the other end. The pattern varied, but the same diligence and concentration persisted. With head lowered, he’d race to the corner of the yard closest to the road without entering that invisible zone that would set off the collar warning. After sniffing, he’d race off to another section of the yard as if he’d been handed another clue in a scavenger hunt.

After 20 minutes of watching and figuring the neighbors had heard enough of his clanging bell, I decided to intercept him. Calling never works so I didn’t even try. Ollie was smart to my ways and kept his distance.

Carol thought it made sense that we get him in, too. She handed me a slice of chicken – his most favorite of foods – that I waved. Ollie slowed down on one of his passes, but his nose was obviously fixed on something even more intriguing than chicken. We opened the car door, an invitation for a walk that he never refuses. He didn’t slow down.

Finally, during one of his intense episodes, I had him by the tail. All of a sudden, like a click of a switch, he was focused on chicken and I brought him for breakfast.

Then there was Saturday. He wasn’t dialed into hunting and sauntered about the yard checking things out. I went for a row and found him peacefully chewing grass when I returned.

Carol came out and I went in to check out the paper and make coffee. I expected she and Ollie would be in for breakfast at any moment. When they didn’t show up I scanned the yard and didn’t see either of them. Maybe she had decided to take him for a walk. But, no, both cars were in the drive.

Now I was mystified. Maybe, although she would have had to take off his collar, she had taken him out of the yard. Or maybe, he had gotten out of the yard and she had given chase. If that had happened, he would have dug a hole under the chain link fence.

I started walking the fence line and to my shock found Carol lying on the ground. The situation became apparent when I reached her. Her right arm extended under the fence, her hand clasped firmly on Ollie’s hind leg. Ollie was lying on the outside of the fence panting from his failed escape.

Carol said she spotted him digging and as she approached he attempted to slide under the fence. She got him just in time. I went into the neighbor’s yard and walked him back home.

Saturday afternoon was spent reinforcing the fence line. Somehow I thought Ollie’s days of grand escapes were over, that he’s too old for that. But then it’s spring and we’re all ready to break out of home confinement.

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  • Justanidiot

    reichsfuhrer gigi closed the bay. we don't want corvid to become water born. heed her warnings or be prepared to be scuttled

    Friday, May 1, 2020 Report this