Suzy Says

The scene of the crime

When it’s cold here, it’s usually clear, and as you can see in the picture above, that was the case yesterday (can you spot the Schatz?). I surprised Schatzi in her sunny patch, where she was catching some rays and some z’s (girls are all about the multi-tasking, you see). I let her jump around when she saw the leash, instead of taking the opportunity to make her behave the way my sister would have. There are perks to being an aunt, whether it’s to a kid or a dog.

When we got to the logging road, I let her off the leash and off she went to explore. I love seeing just her tail moving along above the scrubby huckleberry bushes, like a shark’s fin in the ocean.

She always trots ahead of me. You’d think I was the old lady here, though I’m a mere thirty-seventeen to Schatzi’s thirty-forty. But she is very lean, muscled, and strong, and looks and acts about half her age. Kind of like Me. At one point, she turned around to see where I was, and I told her I was coming. She came bouncing up to me and pushed her head against my hand, the universal dog sign for “pet me”.

I did, petting her and talking to her in the crazy lady way I always do when we take a walk (I’m sorry to report that after a recent viewing of the delightful “Top Hat” I was also inspired to sing). She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and I realized that this was the best possibly therapy for a Henry-broken heart. I was so touched that Schatzi actually came to be petted instead of exploring. It had never happened before, and when I told my sister about it, she said that Schatzi had never done it with her, either. I think she knew I was sad and was trying to comfort me.

Off she went again, and I trailed behind her in my official lady-in-waiting capacity, enjoying the unusual sun and blue skies. Coming around a bend, I came across a truck.

Schatzi was past the truck, and I called her. She came running like a racehorse and I clipped her leash on before approaching the truck. Its occupant had a barky dog, but Schatzi didn’t bark. She also sat like a good dog. I was really proud of her.

It turns out that the truck driver is the security guard for the lumber company which owns the logging road and the surrounding land. Rent-a-cops look a little different in the country. I explained that my brother has lived here for 15 years and my sister for 10, and we never knew it was wrong to walk on the road.

He took my name, address, and phone number (I only had to give him the last four digits, since all local phone numbers start with the same three), and gave me his card. He wrote another guy’s contact info on the card and told me to call him to get a permit to walk on the property. Apparently it’s basically a waiver of liability, which I can understand. We shook hands and he went on his way. Schatzi and I headed home. Even though I knew the guy was gone, I felt weird about continuing to walk down the road once I knew I shouldn’t.

When I got home, I dutifully called and left a message. I was rewarded by a phone call at 7:30 this morning, when I was dreaming of not marrying a handsome prince (even when I’m asleep, I never accept the rich guy’s proposal). I took off my sleep mask and ear plugs, picked up the phone, and stared at it for a ring or two. What am I supposed to do again? Eventually I figured it out and I’ll get my dog walking permit in the mail, so Schatzi and I can pick up where we left off.