Off leash

Saturday night I dreamed Pooka escaped from me, and ended up far across a field, penned in with a vicious pit bull, and I couldn't call her back. When I woke Sunday, I felt jittery about taking her out, nervous that she'd run away from me.

But when we got to the North Beach trail at Discovery Park, the stairs were slippery and I was having a hard time making her heel as we tromped down, so I took a deep breath and unclicked her leash. She did not run away. In fact, she stuck to the trail, listened to my "uh-uh's" when it seemed she might be tempted to dash into the underbrush, and checked in with me often. When we reached the beach, she dashed and sniffed around a bit, but didn't leave my sight. Later, on a longer stretch of sand, she stretched out her stride for a long sprint, then came bounding back when I called. She seemed light and happy. Watching her makes me feel light and happy. We wandered the beach for a bit; I reluctantly leashed back up after she chased a bird a ways and didn't react to my call.

One step at a time. What a good dog.

Sunday evening, we went to visit L. and Pepper the Pug, who alternately sniffed and yipped at Pooka. The Pook wasn't thrilled with this noisy little beast that didn't want to play, but the two coexisted nicely on and off, joined in the common pursuit of Wait For Humans To Drop Pizza On The Carpet Under The Dining Room Table. L. had warned me it might be a little rocky, so I was pleased that Miss P chilled, chewed on a rawhide and generally ignored Little Puggy when things got uggy.