Vancouver dogs -- rugged, yet pampered?

Just a week later off I went again, this time to Vancouver. While there, I had the opportunity to observe another very dog-friendly city. Just like Manhattan, people and their dog companions stepped out on the town morning, noon and night. But when the weather turned nice -- the best all year, I was told -- then there was no holding back.
Everyone in the city, it seemed, headed out to enjoy the sun and fresh air. And most seemed to be on their way to Stanley Park for the waterside greenery.

Vancouver dogs really do appear different somehow from those in Manhattan. They have that Northwest ruggedness, well-groomed but with a slight scruffiness that comes, perhaps, from the Pacific ocean air. Or maybe all that delicious salmon. It's good for one's coat, you know, even if not for one's breath.

But they have more of an air of sophistication than Montara dogs, who may live a little closer to the earth. We have fewer sidewalks, for example. And perhaps dogs are a little less pampered down here on the Coast.

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?