Escape artist Saint

Daisy has progressed really well in many ways. We can walk down the beach in the morning and she keeps our pace, not pulling or yanking on the leash. We can even lash the leash around her halter at her waist and let her continue on her own. She'll stick by us – that is, so long as there aren’t any distractions like dogs a half-mile down the sand.

Maybe that’s why we dropped our guard a bit while visiting a friend’s house in Oakland, Calif. We were helping out Daisy’s godmom – yes, she has a godmother, more on that later – and moving some things out of the house into a small, freestanding garage out back. We tied Daisy to a tree nearby while we loaded boxes into the garage and tried to stack all their goods relatively neatly. At first, Daisy hated the idea. She whined and then would let out with a loud bark – unusual for this non-barker who didn’t seem to realize she had the ability until a year or so ago. But she finally settled down on the grass and as long as I stuck my head out of the wooden garage doors now and then, she was okay. This was great, I thought, good training.

When we went back into the house to do more packing, Daisy came along. We left the door propped a little so people could go in and out. Bad idea. I looked up from a pile of papers to spot a wisp of a tail heading the wrong direction – out the back. I went after her. But Daisy’s fast. She was down the block, crouching low to the ground in a fast trot and heading toward the intersection. I put the speed on, glad I had worn tennis shoes that day. She rounded the corner, passed the YMCA, and shot around another corner.

This was Oakland, not Montara. People speed down this street in their hot rods, police cruisers chase parolees on the lam, fire engines roar out of their station. Daisy’s godparents live in a “transitional” neighborhood --- theirs was one of the refurbished old gems amidst rows of houses suffering from impoverished urban blight. We ran. Daisy could have chosen the route to the freeway, down to the shopping center, who knows where. She was picking up speed. What if I couldn't catch her? Suddenly, she slowed and stopped. On the other side of the grating was a silvery pit bull, nosing through the fence back at her. No barks, no bites, not even a growl. The pit bull was staying back a little from this big animal. Daisy lunged forward in a rude greeting but I grabbed her. The pit bull was curious. Another time, I decided, and dragged Daisy away. Disappointed, she came along back around the block and to her godmom’s place. Another lesson learned… generally, she’ll stick around. But if she’s got some business around the corner – watch out.