Scarlett’s excellent adventure

Usually every day I don’t work out at the YMCA I take my dog to the park.
That’s usually Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I work out Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
The weather has to be really dreadful to not go to the park, raining or snowing hard.
The dog loves it.
I get harassed every morning. The dog wants to go to the park.
There are two parks I use: -1) nearby Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow”), and -2) Baker Park in Canandaigua.
Boughton Park is the most exciting to a dog. It’s mostly woods, so harbors lotsa critters, including deeries.
But Boughton requires a leash all the time. We lost the dog in there once. She disappeared chasing a deer.
Baker Park is fenced, although the entrances are open. And the fence ain’t perfect; there are a few gaps here-and-there.
But there’s a section where I’d let the dog run loose. There are no gaps there.
Yesterday (Monday, November 26th, 2012) was Baker Park, so I let the dog run loose where I usually did.
Outside one entrance is a doggy-attraction in someone’s backyard, squirrels or something.
Last week while I was walking along the unleashed part, she bolted at a dead run across a soccer-field toward some crows she saw far away.
She sent the crows packing, and then returned to me.
Our next visit (probably last Thursday) she bolted across the soccer-field again and out the entrance. Backyard checked, attraction checked, she ran back to me.
Yesterday I took the dog to Baker Park again, and let her loose where I usually do.
That was three times around without incident. I fully loop the park four times.
On our fourth lap she bolted across the soccer-field again, and out the entrance.
I didn’t see this. She disappeared.
I called her. No sign of the dog.
I’d already lost one dog years ago. I didn’t wanna lose another.
Fourth lap hardly started, I walked back to my car.
She recognizes the horn, or so it seems, so I blew it.
No sign of the dog.
After a while I drove out the entrance, and blew the horn between the attractive backyards.
Still, no sign of the dog.
I drove down to the other entrance, along the street that has the attractive backyards, tooting the horn.
Still, no sign of the dog.
I drove into the other entrance, and circled the park-pavilion up at the end of the parking-lot.
After a while I drove back out into the neighborhood next to the park.
I tooted the horn.
No sign of the dog.
Back into my first entrance, back into the park again.
There was my dog, trotting far away along the fence where I usually let her loose; obviously looking for me.
I blew the horn. The dog turned toward the car at a run.
What a relief!
Leaving that park without my dog would have been very depressing.
She’s chipped, and has my cellphone-number embroidered on her collar.
That collar has saved her twice.
But it’s cold. I would have been thinking about her all night, her suffering and lonely.
So do I continue going to Baker Park? Baker Park is 20-25 minutes away, and the only reason I went there was to let my dog run loose.
I can’t do that any more. She has to be fully leashed.

• “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara) is my current dog; a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s seven, and is our sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s our fourth rescue.)
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about two-three hours per visit.
• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles east. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.
• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I am now alone with the dog.