The Swamp Renegade Strikes Again

I let Ruby outside a few minutes ago because she was exhibiting all the signs of having to take care of business:

following me around


being generally obnoxious

As it turned out, she didn’t have to go; the minute she was free in the dark and cold her tail went up (which, I believe, is the dog equivalent of a horse’s ears going back; it means mischief and it means Dear Lord hold the reins because that horse is about to try and scrape you off on the side of the barn (or maybe that’s just my Girl Scout camp experience)) and she attempted to make a break for the swamp at the side of our yard.  Apparently, a rabbit had strayed in that direction sometime within the last 24 hours, and it was imperative that Ruby investigate immediately.

I stood on the front steps, in socks and sweats and fleece and crossed arms, and called her back.

She came right away, because she’s a good dog and a good being and generally a credit to the universe.

But I felt a little guilty about the entire situation, because there have been times when nightfall has made me want to run as fast as I can toward something even if what I’m running toward is uncertain at worst, and smelling of stale water and algae at best.

I think I’ll let her go tomorrow night, and say nothing later about the burrs tangled at her elbows and ears.

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