The Little Pack

With a lead-in like that, you know this has to be about Cheyenne. This morning I woke with my neck cranked and aching, head half off the pillow. Not too long after coming to consciousness, the reason why became all too clear. Cheyenne had appropriated my pillow for herself; to sleep on, and slowly but steadily pushed me out of the way. And man was she cozy. Now you have to truly know Cheyenne to understand that there was not even a hint of disobedience or insubordination in this act. She simply stumbled upon this great spot and could not believe her good fortune. Further, I can imagine she was quite amused with herself for never thinking about sleeping in this spot before. It’s funny as long as this is not  a new pattern.

Cheyenne knows the exact time the mailman comes on Saturday mornings. The last several Saturdays she has been desperate to go outside. When we let her out she sits waiting at the end of the driveway as close to the fenceline as possible. Then, when the mailman drives by, he tosses her a biscuit which she promptly prances off with and buries for later.

Just recently chased Cheyenne down the street. In flip flops. Again. But this time, I had Dixie and Jackson with me. And my husband had no awareness of the crisis in progress. But I should back up and explain. Cheyenne always refused to leave the yard even when she was on the leash and did not have her the electric collar on. To take her for a walk in the neighborhood I would have to put her in the car and park on the side of the yard. So, one day I decided to try to leave the yard with her on a leash.  She was very apprehensive, but trusted me and was ecstatic to discover that she was able to leave the yard with me. Since then she been really excited to go for walks with me. Until. The disaster of the other day.

I decided to just take Jack and Dixie and come back for Cheyenne. I thought it would be fine if she stayed in the yard while we went. Unfortunately, because I was leaving the yard she thought the magic of me was in place and proceeded to walk right through the electric fence. I heard it beep, I told her to stay and she walked through it like nothing. Fantastic. She was so amped that I don’t think she even felt the shock. Then it was as though the world was her oyster and she took off down the street, kicking her back legs out straight behind her like a deer. I was calling her and calling and she did not hear me. I had Dixie on the leash and started running, in my flip flops, no phone. Dixie was not keeping up with me. My running seemed to encourage Cheyenne to run faster. I began flashing back to the last time she ran away. By now I was screaming.  Oh and praying. Because as we’ve established I become quite the believer during times of stress. Against all my better instincts, I stopped running. Inside I was completely panicked. I couldn’t believe all the work I have done with was crumbling.

I stopped to see what would happen. She slowed. I think she was just super-excited to be on a walk and be able to be with Jack. I kept screaming her name and telling her to come. I scooped up Dixie and calmly (ha!) walked towards Cheyenne. Somehow I caught her attention and got her to come to me. I put her on Dixie’s leash and carried Dixie back. And thanked God that Dixie is small enough to carry. I took off Cheyenne’s collar and threw it in the yard. My heart was pounding out of my chest, but at least she came to me.

I have been worried that she would leave the yard but I think that she thinks there is some sort of magic that occurs when I escort her out of the yard and she has not tested it. This whole event has given me reason to pause though.

… are my favorite. We sleep in, well, actually, I should clarify. We attempt to sleep in. Like clockwork, Cheyenne and Dixie are ready to roll around 7, sometimes 7:30. We argue over whose turn it is to deal with them, take them out and try to keep sleeping. However. They have other ideas. Before we know it, we are grudgingly getting out of bed, making coffee and trying to wake up. Soon we are drinking coffee, chatting, surfing, and hanging out with the whole pack. Cheyenne and Dixie are in and out, in and out. Dixie is soon woofing for food. Jackson is bringing me a toy. But it is a nice reprieve from the week.

I love coming home to all my animals. Sometimes I can see Cheyenne’s silhouette from a half mile away, her ears visible even at that distance. Sometimes Jackson is in the yard. When he sees me he rejoices, and takes a wide lap around my car. He runs around to the driver’s side door and I open the door and he sails into the car, over my lap and lands in the passenger seat, tail a-wagging and we drive into the garage. I am greeted with barks and yips and a cacophony of celebratory sounds from the other side of the door. “Hold your horses, I’m coming!!” I say. As soon as I open the door, there are more tails wags, hops, kisses and wiggles and regardless of my mood, it is absolutely impossible not to feel joy at this welcome. The cats soon seem to appear out of thin air, weaving in and out of the dog’s limbs, looking up at me with their sweet faces and it is in these moments that I realize how blessed I am.