My Jerry Springer Moment ...

I've never actually watched the Jerry Springer Show. (Is it still on? I have no idea ...) But, I have seen clips of some of its more stellar moments. "Stellar" in that "Oh, here's a train wreck, and I can't seem to look away" manner such things have of sneaking up on you and grabbing your full attention. No matter how much you would like to pretend it wasn't true.

So, this morning, I had my own Jerry Springer moment, courtesy of Fae, the pin-headed dog.

Being, I suspect, more than a little bit hound, she is, without a doubt, one of the most willful, stubborn dogs I've ever owned. Actually, she may be <b>the</b> most willful, stubborn mutt that has ever lived with me, but I guess I'm just not ready to concede that title to her just yet. She also has that hound tendency to make a break for freedom whenever possible. So -- if the back gate is open, she is gone. If she makes it to the front door before I slam it in her face, she is gone. If she manages to climb or jump the fence (or tunnel underneath it) -- you guessed it: she is gone. Not really for a long time. And she doesn't go very far. But she bounds around outside like some overly large jackrabbit with a too-tiny head and too-small ears. She has the time of her life. I get stuck with the anxiety and the heart attack, because she doesn't have to get very far from our house before she hits an incredibly busy road. The kind of road that spells instant death to pin-headed dogs bounding joyfully through life without looking where they are going.

This would not be so bad if she would just come back when I call her. But, no. She gets all caught up in the bounding and the jumping and the chasing of -- whatever: sunbeams, dust motes, little bugs, stray leaves -- that she doesn't come when called. We've been working on improving that, but, so far, that's where we are.

And so, this morning, I went outside to look at something in the front yard. Fae managed to get the door open, and off she went -- heading right for the horribly busy street like a bounding, pin-headed moth drawn to the flame that spells its doom. I called her. She ignored me. She became happier and happier as I became more and more panicked. And, so, I ended up yelling at her to get her attention and get her headed into the house. (Actually, screaming at the top of my lungs, because that, at least, gets her interested enough to look in my direction and remember: "Oh! Yeah! The house! That's where I'm supposed to be!")

As Fae bounded past me back into the house, I looked up to find my neighbor out in the parking lot, standing next to his car and watching me. I smiled and waved, but he just stared with that perplexed expression normally reserved for idiots and crazy people.

Niiiiice.

Ah well, he would understand, if only he had a pin-headed dog, too. -.-"