I had to let Briscoe off his leash in the backyard this morning so that he could play in the snow. (Yes, I take him potty on a leash in our fenced-in backyard because he still hasn’t mastered the “Come!” command and is easily distracted by all of the squirrels and bunnies. I am also convinced he will escape through the slots of the fence or underneath.) He wore his navy sweater to keep warm and to remain visible.
briscoe’s big adventure
I thought I had lost my little white dog for good Sunday night.
J and I were dining at our friends’ house when Briscoe and his gal pal, Lola, escaped from the backyard. By the time we noticed that their gate had been left opened by the lawn guy, the dogs were out of sight.
My friend stayed inside to keep her eye on her sleeping baby while her husband, J and I pulled on our shoes and ran out the door after the dogs. As I took a right at the end of their driveway, a desperate cry escaped my throat and worry thoughts flooded my mind.
Oh my god, my dog is missing.
What if I can’t find him?
He is so fast.
He could be anywhere.
And it’s dark outside.
He can run forever without being seen.
What if he gets hit by a car?
I might never see him again.
I started running down the street yelling for him and Lola. Sadly out of shape, my chest hurt from inhaling the cold air while screaming his name and moving at top speed.
At the end of the seemingly never-ending block, down the hill, I thought I spotted the two dogs. It turns out it was just Briscoe and a fire hydrant; Lola was on the other side of the street already making her way back home. (Thank goodness she can’t stand being apart from her parents and knows her way home, as she wasn’t wearing her collar or ID tags.)
“I see them! I see them!” I called back to the guys. Pointing to my left I yelled, “There’s Lola! Grab Lola!”
I ran past another house. “Briscoe, come!” I cried, and I was really crying at this point. My fear was that he would see me running, think we were playing and run off in the opposite direction.
“Briscoe, come!” He picked up his head and looked at me. A moment later he ran towards me. I reached down to scoop him up, but he flew past me to J, who was several yards behind. Remarkably, Briscoe came to a stop in front of J’s feet, and my husband picked him up, unsure whether to scold him for escaping or to praise him for coming back.
As I type this story, a day and a half after it happened, I still get choked up when I think about what could have happened. I have to remind myself that the worst, thankfully, did not happen, although you can be sure that I will always double check the gates when I let Briscoe out in anybody’s backyard.
I think Briscoe knows that something upsetting happened because he’s been extra cuddly and loving since. My new plan is to smother him with affection so that he never wants to be apart from me again.
briscoe’s favorite new pet accessories
Check me out over on Elizabeth Anne Designs Living, where I’m talking about Briscoe’s–I mean, my–favorite new pet accessories. Be sure to leave a comment (here or there) and be part of the conversation!
a doggie do?
My childhood dog, a Bichon Frise named Timmy (short for Princess Tiara’s Tiny Tim*), loved to chew pig ears and cattle hooves. When we first got Briscoe, I asked the vet about those, um, delicacies, and he told us not to let Briscoe have them… but I can’t remember why. So occasionally I’ll give B a flat rawhide strip because those seem safe, but he eats them up pretty quickly. There have got to be other varieties of bones he can gnaw on for longer.
Do you let your dog chew on bones? What type do you give your pup? Specifically, I’m wondering if rawhide bones or the hollow ones filled with peanut butter or “meat” are safe.
I also think it’s about time Briscoe got a new collar. Unlike some of his furry friends, he wears his 24-7, and it’s getting a bit grungy. Plus, with Fall around the corner (yes, I’m dreaming about cooler weather already), his “wardrobe” could use a change.
I’d love to get him a fun collar from a local designer or Etsy seller; the ones they have at Petco are pretty blah. Any recommendations?
* Timmy was already named when he picked him up from the breeder. His parents were show dogs (his mom was Princess Tiara) and he was the runt of the litter, hence the name Princess Tiara’s Tiny Tim.
snow hopper
I’m a bad fur-mommy. I’ve forced my pup to poop in the house the past two days because it’s just too cold outside to take him on a proper walk. Yes, I could let him romp around the backyard unattended (after all, that is why we built the fence), but a) I’m too paranoid (He’s white, just like the snow. What if I lose him?) and b) it’s too frigid for him to be out for an extended period. Just minutes into our morning excursion he was hunched over and shivering. I even had him bundled up in a fleece jacket. If he didn’t like the snow so much maybe he’d do his business quickly, but he loves to jump on top of the snow banks and crawl through the white powder. In Briscoe’s mind, snow is for playing, not for pooping.
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