Bad Dog

Lucy is a cat-crazy canine, so much so that she finds the day lilies where one of our neighbor's cats hang out  irresistible whenever we walk by. This morning we ran into her friend Cooper right there, and when their leashes became entwined in the excitement of seeing each other, I dropped Lucy's, as we do. But before I could stoop to pick up the disentangled leash from the ground, she bolted toward the lilies, nose to the ground, hunting cats.

I heard the jingle of her leash ring as it bounced along the parking lot. Giving chase, I whistled and called her back, LuLuLuLuLu! treats in hand, but she tore off in the opposite direction as if she couldn't hear me. Suddenly she stopped and dashed up some steps, sprinting up and down a walkway that runs along several back gates. She skid to a stop, nose-punched one open, and hurtled inside, gate banging closed behind her.

I, too, mounted the steps, me two at a time, thrust open the gate, and grabbed the collar of my naughty dog, and dragged her away from the neighbors sliding glass door, where she was crouched, staring and waiting, presumably for the cats. As we quickly exited the yard, I glanced to my left. One of the cats was watching the whole show from a patio chair pushed under the outdoor table, and I think she was more than a little amused.