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May 22, 2007
Implicit Trust
With seeming jubulation and glee (Please allow me to indulge in anthropomorphizing my dog for a moment.), my dog engages herself into bold endeavors that I can only cringe about when watching from a safe vantage point. Last week, I likened her agility to that of a bighorn sheep or a mountain goat here in my blog. And I won't even start in describing her bountiful energy, except to mention that she's a border collie, and that should explain it all. So, with her combined maneuvering skills and endless energy, there isn't much that my dog won't do or many places that she won't go. But today, in the middle of our run, she stopped dead in her tracks, and she wouldn't be budged.
Let me explain. Late last night, a front rolled in, bringing with it colder temperatures, some precipitation, and a lot of wind. Resultingly, it was violently windy when my dog and I went out for a run today. June and I ran on Beattie Gulch Road, a forest service road that switchbacks out of the Yellowstone River Valley and into the Gallatin Mountains. The first few miles of the road climb through arid sagebrush meadows before the road dives into a dense pine forest.
As June and I climbed up through the exposed meadows, the wind blew heartily. When the wind blows like this, June's attention level increases exponentially. I think the wind blows in a variety of interesting scents. She runs from here to there, sniffing the wind with the fervor of a bloodhound on a scent trail. While June was sniffing the wind as we climbed, I was taking in the gorgeous lupine growing in dainty pockets and clusters scattered about the meadow. In other words, June was looking up, and I was looking down.
Near the top of the meadow, at the edge of the forest, June suddenly stopped moving, and her ears perked up. I kept running, and urged her forward with me. She moved ahead of me by several steps, crossed into my path, stopped again, and, in doing so, effectively blocked my forward movement. Again, her ears perked in attention. The situation didn't make sense to me; June never stops moving. June would run herself to pure exhaustion if I allowed her to.
As I stood there confused, I watched her tail rise and her hackles stand up. June was not only at attention, but she was agitated into defense mode. When this happened, I experienced an adrenaline release through my body that felt like a hot, fast-moving wave. Suddenly, urgently, I felt the need to get the hell out of there. We turned around and made a beeline back down the switchbacks.
I don't know what was up above us on the road, but it caused June to act in a very strange way. Normally, this dog trusts and relies almost completely upon me. Today, I implicitly trusted and replied upon her.
Posted by Meghan at May 22, 2007 2:09 AM
Comments
Oh my - good thing she was with you! That's kind of crazy how dogs have a sense like that. Extra biscuit for June tonight! :)
Posted by: Beth at May 22, 2007 2:36 PM
Chalk one up for June.
That would spook the hell out of me. Probably a bear or lion - or worse. Better safe than sorry.
Posted by: JeffO at May 22, 2007 4:03 PM
YIKES, June sensed trouble and way cool on her blocking you ...ahhh dogs are great:-)
Posted by: Bob G at May 22, 2007 7:22 PM
I think you were very wise to trust her. Good for you.
Posted by: backofpack at May 22, 2007 10:25 PM
good June!
Posted by: corrado giambalvo at May 23, 2007 1:41 AM
It was probably the killer rabbit from the Holy Grail.
Posted by: Eric at May 23, 2007 11:21 AM
Wow. Way to go, June! What a great running partner. I am amazed by her sense and her desire to protect you! Very touching. Gosh, I don't even know June and I'm proud of her. :)
Posted by: anne at May 23, 2007 2:52 PM