A Dog I Can Trust.

So I'm down in my workshop making some ammunition. As usual, Belle is down there with me, because I can't be anywhere in the house without this furry second shadow following me everywhere. (Murphy used to be like this, but these days he'd rather by laying in front of the stove upstairs.)

Suddenly Belle starts making her "I have to puke" noise. Aw, damn. I do NOT want to clean up dog puke. So I figure it's time to gamble on Belle and see if she's as trustworthy as I think she is. I quickly take her over to the shop door and call her out onto the driveway, hoping that she'll toss whatever and come back in when I summon her. She's been good out behind the house when she's burrowed out of the dog pen, but this time we're out front of the house in broad daylight. This'll be the acid test.

But just my luck, as soon as Belle goes out and hurls, one of the crazy cat neighbor's countless feral cats shoots out from under my carport and runs right in front of Belle. Belle, being a German Shepherd, is off after it in a flash, leaving me n the driveway thinking "Sonofa..."

Reflexively I call her name out as she departs my yard into the hedge between my property and the crazy cat neighbor's place. I know that it's futile, as neither Murphy nor Lagniappe before him would ever have terminated a cat pursuit in progress, but Belle slammed on the brakes instantly and came right back to me, letting the cat go where ever it is that feral cats go in that cat abyss next door. Then Belle walked right back to me and sat down in the snow next to me as if it was her natural place. Wow. Any one of my three past male Shepherds would still be chasing cats around the neighbor's place as I write this, returning only when tired or hungry. But Belle? My Miss Belle? Right back to me on the first call, cats be damned.

THIS is a good dog.

"I don't need no steenkin' leash. I is a gud dog."