Sunday Hike, Part 2
By nine o’clock Sunday morning the outdoor thermometer was cresting the seventy degree mark. A most unusual mid-March morning for Upstate New York to be sure.
The Husband and I set out for a hike with the dog. The orchard at the top of the hill smelled unmistakably onion-like and we discovered the patchy grass wasn’t grass at all but wild chive. Tasty.
On the return trip the dog went missing. When she finally reappeared she had a shifty look about her with ears pinned back and head low. “Why’s she carrying a log?” the Husband asked but we both knew that was wishful thinking – that dog has not once fetched a stick in the four years we’ve had her. After some firm coaxing she dropped her find and, of course, it was a deer spine she’d grubbed up from somewhere and thought she’d bring on home for later. It reminded us of the time a few years ago when she shot into the house carrying a severed fox head which she rolled all over in the living room before we could figure out what the heck it was and get it away from her.
Not going to lie: for a brief time that day I had that dog listed as a free agent on Petfinder.com. I eventually came to my senses and pulled the ad. Giving away the kid’s pet without her permission is probably frowned upon behavior.