Leapin' Saints, Bernard!

Just when we thought that Daisy's escape artistry was a thing of the past, we find out that it isn't. When Sally and I stopped to get some smoked salmon from a local purveyor near Princeton Harbor, we would soon learn that Daisy has lost none of her agility or stealth. She was riding in the back of the Volvo wagon and had been on her best behavior all day. We parked on the street, directly in front of the fish market, leaving our Saint in the car, fast asleep. One thing we did differently, though. We had the back seats down so that she had more room to lie down. We also left the right front window down for more air circulation in the car. How likely was it that she could squeeze her considerable figure between the front bucket seats and exit the right passenger window?

After we bought our fish, I looked out the shop window at our car and said to Sally, "She must really be asleep and completely flat in the back of the wagon -- I can't even see her!" We quickly learned that I couldn't see her because she was not there. We rushed to the car and tried to figure out what had happened.

Our hearts sank as we looked in the empty wagon. There was no sign of her in the front seat, the back seat, or the way back. I looked up with worry at the busy highway not far from us. Then I saw her trotting down the sidewalk about two blocks away. Thinking quickly -- an infrequent occurrence -- I leapt into the car with Sally and drove discreetly drove down the road, passing Daisy, then stopping a half-block ahead of her. I got out of the car, opened the back of the wagon and turned toward our girl. She looked a little surprised, then quickened her pace. Her carriage suddenly appeared in front of her, inviting her to jump in. How could she resist? In a flash, she flew into the back of the car, alighting on her comfortable spot. She looked up at me, as if to say, "Why aren't you driving us home now?"

Well, at least we figured out a better way to get her back into the car if she ever bails out again on her own. Chasing her, we know, causes her to show how fast she can get away from you. But pulling up ahead and inviting her to join the party? Who woulda thought?

Winston tried to scare Daisy on purpose (possibly)!

I hate to think that Winston would try to scare Daisy on purpose, but what other reason could he have for dressing up as Dracula? I think Daisy's panicky behavior was completely appropriate under the circumstances. She knew that ferocious , undead Yorkie was going to bite her neck the first chance he got, end of story. If you don't believe me, take a look at the photographic evidence: unlike sleeping dogs, photos don't lie.

Her reaction to being tied up in the back yard was understandable, too, if we had remembered what happened to Nana, the delightful Saint Bernard who cared for and watched over the Darling children in "Peter Pan." Who could ever forget the heartbreaking scene in the Disney version of Peter Pan, poor Nana tethered to the ground while watching Peter and all the little Darlings -- Wendy, Tigger, Christopher Robin and Piglet (or whoever) -- flying off into the night. Recalling that scene is enough to drive any Saint Bernard to the edge. We have to consider the possibility that Daisy was distraught because she was worried that someone was going to spirit us away to Neverland without her. She probably knows that in the original story (not the Disney version), Nana got to go along to Neverland with Peter and the kids. Why Disney changed the story must be quite a story in itself. Daisy and I would both like to know why anyone would leave their beloved Saint behind.

Our big mistake

They say animal training has as much to do with the humans as with the dog. They're right.

While up in Oregon, Tom's sister invited us to dinner. We headed over to Barbara's place with delight. We looked forward to spending the evening with his two sisters and brother-in-law and knew it would be a great meal -- topped off by a blackberry tart made with berries we had picked wild that morning.

Lottie, a very well-adjusted white Lab, lives with Barbara and her husband Martin. So we thought we'd park behind the house in a shady area and leave Daisy in the car with the windows down. As Tom carefully backed into the spot, though, it felt like we were entering a steam bath. Too many trees breathing heavily in the muggy air. That wasn't going to work.

Oregon isn't like our little California coastal town, Montara. It's hot there in the summer, even in the early evening.

We moved the Mini Cooper to the front of the house. It was quite shady there, too, but less steamy. We rolled all the windows down, put a screen in the front and started down the steps toward the house. Little did we know that Daisy had already spotted big sister MaryBeth's tiny Yorkshire terrier, Winston, through the distant window. Winston lounged in MaryBeth's lap and stared up belligerently toward Daisy. Or at least she thought. Daisy started yelping almost immediately. She began barking more heatedly. Soon she was in a panic.

Winston just peered through his tiny brown curls at her. Horrible.

We asked Barbara to close the shades in the house but the damage was done. Daisy would not be left in the car, not with that little guy behind the shade, staring at her. And by then she had barked herself into such a panting frenzy that we didn't dare leave her alone.

Tom came out and comforted her. We had only one more option. It was cooling off nicely outside, so we got a rope and tied it to the waist hook on Daisy's halter, then tied her to a tree. We set a big bucket of water beside her and began walking nonchalantly toward the house. Daisy knew what was coming next, and she wasn't going to let it happen without a fight. All along she had been sure this time would come. One day we'd abandon her, and clearly this was it. She barked, she whined, she cried nonstop. We called down to her from the deck above, but even our nearby voices couldn't console her.

I think we withstood her misery about 15 minutes, at the most. Finally, Barbara's husband Marty suggested a solution. MaryBeth drove Winston home and Lottie went out to the car. Daisy got to come inside. She drank a couple cups of water, dribbled across the kitchen floor and collapsed in a relieved heap.

It's obvious we should have known better. Daisy isn't ready to be left alone, especially in a strange place tied to a tree. While she doesn't mind waiting in a car, it does stand to reason that the experience is totally different. The next day we set out for California, but we were all traumatized.











The rope after removal.