So, I know I promised this blog post to some people last Friday.  Well, it’s better late than never! 

Let me start out by saying that I love my dog.  He has radically changed my life since I brought him home 9 months ago.  I’ve done my best making his life as comfortable as possible, and making our life together as flawless as can be.  I’ve trained his tail off, I shower the brat in affection, I make sure what’s going into his mouth is better than what’s going into mine, I’ve gone out of my way to expose him to all sorts of situations, and I try to make every moment a bonding moment.  There is almost nothing I would do differently if I had to start over with him.  I feel like he would say the same thing, if he could.  If I had any doubt that all our training and bonding together was not a waste of time, our trip to Pandapas Pond certainly cleared that right up.

Pandapas Pond is a state park set aside for day use in the middle of Jefferson National Forest.  There is a pond with a trail circling it, and then there’s a whole network of trails surrounding the pond.  Dogs are allowed off-leash on all trails except the path immediately next to the pond, which is great because Waffle and I thoroughly enjoy the freedom of no leash—to the point where walking with a leash almost does not suffice.  We used to go once a week, but then the weather and my classes became unforgiving.  I had free time last Friday afternoon and thought it would be nice to get back into the once-a-week groove.  I set out with Waffle even though it had snowed about half an inch.  The lower parking lot was blocked off due to slippery road conditions, so we had to park at the top.  The upper lot was starting to melt, but I could see that the snow on the trail had been there a long time; it was more than just the snow we received that day.  Both of us were totally fine with that—we love snow. 

Right as we begin walked on the trail, a woman walks up with four (four!!) offleash dogs.  Two were Australian Cattle Dogs—a blue and a red—and two were small hounds.  Waffle greeted them the way he typically does: shy but alert, curious, and on-guard.  He started to follow the dog pack and I called him over to me quickly so that poor lady would not suddenly have a fifth dog to take care of.  The next seven or eight minutes were filled with brisk walking and the occasional start-stop action waffle does when we first begin walking at Pandapas.  At the end of that eight minutes, though, he began to do something very uncharacteristic.  He would stop, not sniffing or pawing or rolling, just stop, and watch me walk.  I had to urge him to come with me three or four times over about 50 feet.  Then, in the distance, I saw a couple with a small dog by their side.  Waffle stood very still.  I ended up walking ahead, hoping he would come with me.  He ran backwards up the trail. 

I turned around and tried to catch up with him and he was nowhere in sight.  I called his name several times.  I even said “hippo”, his emergency recall word, twice at the top of my lungs.  I tried my very hardest to keep it cool.  So many worst-case scenarios were running through my head.  But, I knew him enough to know that he would stay on the trail.  Even when we go traipsing in the woods, he finds a path made by deer and sticks to it.  That offered me some relief.  It took me about three minutes to cover the same distance I had covered in eight.  I knew the parking lot was just around the corner.  I also knew that if Waffle wasn’t there, I was going to lose it.  I held onto the hope that he would have left footprints in the snow so I could track him down. 

Then, as the parking lot came into view, I saw Waffle.  He was sitting right next to my car!  He looked as relieved as I was, and I got on the ground and called him over, and he shot into my arms like a giant orange bullet.  I contemplated taking him home, but I decided that would be an unwise course of action.  He was going to greet that dog whether he liked it or not.  So, I put his leash on him and we met the couple with the small dog.  It was a puggle.   A ferocious, angry puggle. 

I then understood everything Waffle was trying to tell me.  He knew that puggle was danger from 300+ feet away, and he didn’t want to get near it.  He ran back to a place he’d know I’d find him and where he would be safe.  Upon that realization, I was so, so proud of him.  I was also disappointed in myself for ignoring his behavior; he was trying to tell me something REALLY important!  I think he’s a genius, and he probably thinks I’m one of the stupider things on Earth.  Whatever, though.  I took him off his leash and we continued our hike.

Shortly after, we came upon the pond and he fell through the ice.  He got out fine (it was five feet from shore, so no big deal) and we went home immediately because he looked very cold.  We went back the next day, though, and nothing terrible happened. Thank goodness.