Busted!

Stalk-stalkitty-stalk. (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.)

It’s becoming clear that our running-dog must become a leash-dog. She’s run away at least seven or more times.
—1) The first time was about a month ago as I walked her myself at Baker Park in Canandaigua.
All-of-a-sudden, no dog.
I went back, calling and looking.
Suddenly the dog appeared from behind the evergreens, happy as lark to have found me.
“Hey; where ya been? I was having a good time back here.”
I continued with the dog still loose.
—2) Next day Linda and I took the dog to Baker Park.
The car-gate to the far entrance was still closed, but an adjacent pedestrian gate was open.
All-of-a-sudden, no dog.
The dog is on the other side of the fence clawing at a rockpile in a neighbor’s backyard.
Retrieve dog with leash (a struggle), and close pedestrian gate.
Continue on, but all-of-a-sudden, ZOOM; no dog.
Back at rockpile on other side of fence.
“How did she get back over there again?” Linda cried. “There must be a gap in the fence.”
The fence (chainlink) at Baker Park is fairly secure, but there are gaps and holes in it; and open gates.
It was recommended by the guy who wanted to become our Financial Advisor, but his dog isn’t a crazed hunter.
Retrieve dog with leash, and off to the Canandaigua Veterans-Administration Hospital golf-course; a large open area fenced on three sides where dogs are allowed to run free.
But one side of the golf-course, next to the hospital access drive, isn’t fenced.
(The Baker Park fence did indeed have gaps in it; she’d gone under one.)
—4) Begin trudging around golf-course, but dog sees squirrel near access road.
ZOOM; off toward access road at full gallop. Our yelling gets tuned out.
Dog retrieved, we continue around the golf-course, but returned home after only one circuit.
The dog ran off again during that final circuit, but we later determined that area was fenced.
—5) Back to Baker Park. Get past gaps in fence, but suddenly ZOOM; off toward road in at full gallop.
Another dog is being led out of the park on a leash, and our dog has to meet it.
That dog’s master managed to shoo our dog away, and we retrieved the dog.
—6) I’m walking the dog myself at Baker Park, and enter the long field at the east end of the park.
ZOOM; the dog is off again at a full gallop, zooms through a hole in the fence, loops back to another rockpile in an adjacent yard, and starts digging.
I had to thread the hole myself, and then try to retrieve the dog.
“Oh, you’re going here; well, I’ll go back over there. You’re going there; well, I’ll go back over here.”
Took at least 10-15 minutes.
—6) Linda and I are both walking the dog last weekend at Baker Park.
We enter the long field to the east. Suddenly, ZOOM; off again at a full gallop, through the fence hole, and loops back around and disappears.
Out a nearby pedestrian gate we go; no sign of the dog.
“She’s out in our front yard,” some lady says from an upstairs window; “digging a hole.”
Linda manages to catch the dog, and I leash the dog, but we have to tell the owners she’s dug up their front yard.
The house-owner strides out; “she’s dug a hole,” I say.
“Which is why Canandaigua has a leash-law,” he says.
“Only a chipmunk hole,” he says; not very large yet.
“I’ve seen you guys running your dog loose in that park. I’ve had dogs come up on my deck.”
So no more Baker Park.
—6) Back to the golf-course yesterday. The way to avoid dramas is to navigate the fenced area, and stay away from the unfenced area.
So off we go next to the fence, around and back up a grade; about 200 yards from the unfenced area.
Suddenly ZOOM; off she goes again — squirrels seen at access road.
Zooms across the road into a VA Hospital area, where the squirrel had run up a tree. (Thankfully, the road is little traveled, and only about 20 mph.)
Out back; past the VA police — with us old farts in pursuit.
“We can’t keep doing this, you monkey; we aren’t young.”
So leash from now on — the doom of Killian (although I may try one more angle at the golf-course).

RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.

“Linda” is my wife of 41+ years.

Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost four, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (Our previous dog, another rescue Irish-Setter, was “Killian.” We had to keep him always leashed, lest he run away.)