Marnie has been a part of our family for nearly two years. When we adopted her she had been living on her own for who knows how long and had hardly any manners. As the weeks and months went on, she learned a few tricks. Her on-leash skills got a little better and she became more comfortable being indoors. We hiked or ran every day (still do), practiced heeling (we once took an entire six mile hike with me holding her harness at my side, offering treats, and saying “heel”), and took her on nearly marathon-distance adventures.
Even after all this time, we can’t let her off-leash.
I can’t count how many times I’ve been told that this is somehow my fault.
We’ve been to acres-big dog parks and practiced recall. She sees me and knows I’m there but doesn’t feel the need to come back. Sometimes, she’ll dash by me and lick my hand and keep going. Food, clickers, whistles, and even a shock collar (we tried it once, only after using it on ourselves to make sure it wouldn’t hurt her) can’t touch her bliss when she is off-leash.
Marnie has run away three times; each time running through traffic, dodging cars, in order to chase a critter or get to a wide open space. Luckily, she always came back. Its not that she wants to get away from me, its that she needs to run. There is something in her wild little soul that needs to fly.
Sometimes I dream of moving somewhere she has the safety to gallop without running into other dogs that might trigger her or zooming through traffic or licking an unsuspecting hiker. Unfortunately, neither the Front Range nor the Central Valley have dog-free open spaces. The other thing is, Marnie likes to hunt. She’ll chase (and catch) squirrels, rabbits, and once she stalked a moose. On top of that, not all dogs get along. Last week, a dog running off-leash ran up to Marnie and immediately started growling and lunging aggressively. I picked her up and tried to shield her from the dog trying to bite her. The owner couldn’t understand why I was frustrated, since his dog “only bit some dogs”.
At the end of the day, keeping her on a leash means keeping her safe. This doesn’t mean she likes the leash and she sometimes jumps out at small animals (lizards are her quarry of choice right now) or whines to go meet other dogs. We practice heeling and waiting for the other pooch or lizard to pass. She still tugs, sometimes.
I love Marnie so very much. Our adventures are wonderful and the bond we share has changed my life in many ways. If I could broadcast one thing to the world about our relationship, its that I don’t expect perfection from Marnie. She still struggles with the behavior she learned when she had to take care of herself, just as I deal with my own history. It would be wrong to demand perfect behavior from an imperfect dog. She’s a wild creature.
So, to the next dog owner who looks at Marnie pulling at the leash and then looks at me judgmentally while their dog sits patiently at their side, I know my dog is not as well-behaved as yours. I also know that its perfectly okay.
Hiking with Kate 