Friday, February 3, 2012

My dog saved me. I think.

I have a Border Collie named Pepper.  Here is a picture of her:


Ready to rock and or roll.

There is a park north of us and a golf course behind it with a great trail that runs behind both.  (That's a horrible sentence but I'm in a hurry.)  Sometimes to switch things up I run up that trail and then back home.  Today I went up that trail.  The dog is usually on my heels and stays there unless she smells something interesting like the dead raccoon in the middle of the road...but that's another story. 

I was going up the trail, which is deserted this time of day, and turned around to find her but she was way behind me.  I called for her but instead of running to me like she normally

does she basically walked to me.  I started running again and she wouldn't come.  She kept looking up the hill at something I couldn't see nor identify.  I watched her for a minute, called her name, but she wouldn't come.  So, I decided to run towards her to see what she would do and she started running with me again.

What was up that hill?  A cougar?  A bad man?  I don't know.  I didn't have the creepy crawlies but she did so I obeyed her instincts and hoped that no one else would follow after me and go up that hill. 

And that's how my dog saved me.  I think.


  1. Timmy could have been in the well. OR she had a sense that you didn't. Either way, good dog.

  2. Wow! Creepy. What a good, smart dog! Thank goodness for her sharp senses and your good sense to mind her. I just told Eric B. what happened and he said as a guy he probably would've gone and checked out what the dog was wary of—thus why most horror movies show the guy entering the haunted house just to "have a look around" even after the demonic voice whispered, "GEEEETTT OUUUTTTTTT!" So glad you're safe, babe!