Lost, and Found
First of all, let me say that my dogs and I are all fine. We really are. Today, we are all still exhausted, and have found that we need to sleep a lot. A lot. But since I’m awake for now, I’ve decided that it would be therapeutic to tell the story of what occurred between about 5pm Thursday, August 6 to 9:30am Friday, August 7.
I also have some very special people to thank. I often don’t name real names when I write in this blog, but I am in this case. I am eternally grateful and blessed to have Patti, Bob, Robin, Pam and Wade in my life. Most especially those three women. There were other people that played a significant role in this story, but the support received from these people went above and beyond.
Patti and I met up Thursday afternoon at about 3pm to take our dogs out. Patti brought two of hers and I brought all four of mine.
We met at a place that I’ve been walking/hiking for nearly 10 years. I randomly discovered it one day when I was bored with the usual places I went and was driving around out of curiosity. It’s not a pretty spot. It is, but used to be more, frequented by druggies and drinkers. It is located off of a very busy Highway 18, which is heavily trafficked by semi-tractor-trailers hauling cargo loads between I-5 and I-90 as it connects the two major highways. This spot is also used as a potty area for humans. A lot of people pull into the slight parking area before the yellow Department of Natural Resources (DNR) gate and use the area as a bathroom.
Despite the lack of redeeming qualities, I discovered it made a great place to walk/hike with my dogs. It used to be more heavily wooded, but a large expanse of the area was clear cut a few years ago. This made it even uglier. But it did open the service roads up a bit more and gradually over the years I learned a bit more about the area every time I walked. There is a short loop that can be done that is under four miles. There are roads and trails to explore that can take exploration time up to several hours. I think my shortest time there has been about an hour on the short loop, but I’ve also spent as much as six hours there venturing further and exploring side trails that dead-ended and discovering another section that went up and eventually connected to Highway 18 again, but right across from the Tiger Mountain summit.
I’ve seen homeless men and women there, target shooters, hunters, and some other explorers, as well as the occasional state forest or DNR employee. But one of the reasons I’ve always liked it is how few people I actually do see. That said, this is the place where Brady was attacked by three dogs that a man was walking with in that area. Another story, but he sustained injuries. I’ve never seen that man since. Still, I sometimes see another person walking with a dog or dogs and I’ve learned to avoid them. Most of us are walking there alone with dogs for a reason. That was amplified almost a year ago when another dog tried to attack Brady.
This is also an area generously populated by wildlife. Hawks, grouse, raccoons, skunks (a friend’s dog got sprayed there this past spring), river otters, coyotes, bears and cougars. I’ve seen all but the skunk. In fact, I had a most memorable cougar encounter in mid-June there that I never hope to experience again. It was thrilling, once in a lifetime, but I sincerely hope to never see a cougar again in its natural habitat.
Oh, and yes, I’ve had my dogs with me when I see critters. That is why they wear bear bells. For all the good that does. We still see a lot of wildlife.
LOST. WHAT HAPPENED.
I’ve been telling stories for years about this spot and have even introduced a select few people to this spot. Patti had never been and I was grumpy and bored that day with a lot of the usual spots we go, plus I didn’t feel like venturing very far. I told her to meet me there and sent her the navigation coordinates via text.
My dogs adore their aunties and love when an auntie or two join us. Being in the woods or open space and hiking off leash is one of their most favorite things. Add some aunties and they are beside themselves with joy. One of the most wonderful things is when dogs from different households become familiar and relaxed around each other. I’ve enjoyed seeing the relationships formed between dogs and the various levels of comfort and companionship.
We met at 3pm and the dogs were all sticking close, even Brady, who is usually off ahead. Patti’s dogs were joyous to be exploring a new place and mine were happy to be mugging for treats off her. Rhys, who often likes to join Brady up ahead in this particular area, was regularly checking in and getting rewarded as usual, although truth be told, treats from aunties always trump treats from me. We could have the very same thing, but coming from an auntie’s hand just tastes better.
While I now wish I hadn’t done this, I suggested that instead of the short loop we do a bit more exploration and I’d show Patti the view from the top. I’ve more recently been hiking another part of the Rattlesnake Scenic Area and for the past several months have been trying to connect the dots between there and my spot. I finally figured it out, but also realized that this spot is bordered by Highway 18 on one side, and by the Raging River the rest of the way. In other words, this area is an island. The land mass is elevated but drops off into several steep ravines or valleys, below which runs the river. In some areas you can hear the river. On the other side of the river are more woods, more very heavy brush, and all on a steep incline. Beyond that is Rattlesnake Scenic Area and a lot of intertwining forest service roads, older and newer, and old trails.
As we were descending the highest point back through a pile of rock rubble, I swore as I saw a deer right at my side. It hesitated for a second and then ran down the steep hillside. Brady and Rhys were behind us off to the side and probably accidentally flushed it. Camm and Patti’s dogs were slightly ahead of us. Youke, as always, was by my side. The three dogs ahead were startled by the deer slinging past them, but all came back to us within seconds. Brady and Rhys emerged from the tree cover and started air scenting, but both then headed in the completely opposite direction after circling a few times. The deer was long gone by then, but they both caught on to its general direction and headed down the trail ahead of us and where we were going anyway.
Brady and Rhys headed off the trail and down an embankment. I wasn’t concerned as the deer was gone and out of range from them at that point and they would not even have caught sight of it. Brady emerged from the wooded area, climbing back up over the embankment within five minutes. He was not followed by Rhys. One of Patti’s dogs tilted his head and turned his face back in the direction from which Brady had just come. So I called for Rhys from there. Nothing. We hung out for about 10-15 minutes calling for Rhys. Then I decided to head back down the hill as the area opens up from there and I can actually see more of the terrain. Plus, I had an idea of the trajectory Rhys would have taken. Thirty minutes later, no Rhys. This is a record and I was now concerned. But not freaked out. We continued calling and I did have my whistle on me, so used that. Nothing.
Over an hour went by and still no Rhys. I sort of feared he’d head back to the car. Usually this is a good thing, but the cars were parked literally right off of Highway 18. At this point we had a choice in directions to take. I chose a particular direction back to the vehicles based on his ability to scent and on his familiarity with the area and how we typically go clockwise.
Plus, by then Youke was utterly freaked out. He hates when I use the whistle anyway, and my tension and worry had him very upset. So upset that he was trembling whenever we stopped and called and whistled. I decided it was best to go back to the cars, place Youke and Brady in their crates and I would walk back up with Camm to call for Rhys. Patti also crated her dogs back in her car and called her husband and Bob arrived after we headed back up, me with Camm in tow. The idea was to have Bob keep an eye on the trail to the gate in case Rhys headed back for the cars. There was another vehicle parked there by then, but while we’d seen the guy in the distance, he made no move toward us, instead choosing to continually move away. We were a bit sketched out, but he was far from us and I was just plain worried about Rhys.
Unfortunately, my continued calling and whistling for Rhys, and obvious worry, started to upset Camm. She continually tried to either hug me, make me stop by pulling back on the leash and her face bore her increasing concern about my emotional state.
Patti and I did the entire loop plus for a second time that day. Still no Rhys. Despite a choice in directions, I was convinced of what direction he’d taken, but still puzzled by both his lack of backtracking his way back – which is something my dogs have always been adept at doing – and by his silence. I had fully expected to hear him howl back at me, even from a distance, if he was confused about getting back.
While I thought I heard him several times, Patti pointed out my calls were echoing off the foothills surrounding us and bouncing back with an indecipherable low sound that resembled a faint howl, thus fooling me into thinking I heard him. Interestingly, I learned the whistle did not echo. But while sharp, the noise probably still could only carry so far in distance.
I stepped off into the brush in several points where the land started to tilt sharply downward and listened and called. In some places I could hear the river rushing loudly and I wondered if he was down there if he could even hear me above the sound of the water and through the dense gorse.
We returned to the cars again, and Bob told us he hadn’t seen anything. He’s also been calling. The man we’d seen also came back down the trail then. He ended up being a very nice, pleasant young guy who had been scoping the area for future hunting. He informed us he’d heard my calling quite clearly, even in the area he’d been, which was excellent news, but also deeply concerning. Why had Rhys not responded? The man also said he had binoculars and since he’d heard me, knew were were looking for a dog. He said that while he’d seen a lot of critters, no black and white dog.
In despair and 20 minutes from sunset, I texted two friends to let them know Rhys was lost. Pam and her husband immediately left their house over my protests and joined us. Bob went back home with his and Patti’s dogs. Patti suggested I eat something, but although I’d only had a piece of toast that morning and coffee, I was incapable of eating. My stomach was in knots as by then it was nearly four hours sine Rhys had disappeared. I knew I was getting dehydrated, but only managed a few sips of water.
When Pam and Wade arrived, the three of us headed back up the trail with flashlights. Patti stayed at my urging as we’d already done so much back and forth. It was then that she apparently called Robin, and the two of them joined us shortly after in the dark to look for Rhys.
The reality though was there just wasn’t much we could do. It was completely dark. And despite a full moon only shortly before, Thursday night had enough cloud cover to make any kind of night vision fairly daunting.
At one point, while Wade went off to the edge of the woods, Pam and I walked a little bit further on the service road and I explained where I thought Rhys would’ve headed. Unfortunately it was down the deep ravine. I called again, something it just seemed I did continuously. Suddenly I thought I heard a howl back. I grabbed Pam’s arm. “Did you hear that?” Pam also thought she heard it and directed me to call again. I did, and again thought I heard a faint howl coming back. But it was so faint. We truly were not sure that we’d heard anything. When I called again, and further down, we heard nothing. Was it wishful thinking? Imagination? The strange effect of the echoing?
Shortly after all five of us were gathered in the dark. I dropped one of the layers I was wearing in the area so hopefully he’d return to my scent. There was simply nothing else we could do at that point.
LOST. A LONG NIGHT.
We made out way back to the cars. I’d already informed everyone I was staying up there for the night. Because I could not be sure what direction Rhys would head if he came back, or that he could successfully backtrack, I decided staying with the car was my best option. That way, if he did come back I could see him and get him before he accidentally wandered onto Highway 18.
Everyone agreed this was a very bad idea but all acknowledged they’d probably do the same. I finally convinced everyone to go home, rest and that’d we’d convene in the morning if able. Robin, an early riser, and I planned to met at first light to resume the search.
It was as everyone was leaving that I realized it was 11pm. Six hours gone.
I desperately wanted to break down, but couldn’t. I have a weird thing where in an emergency or desperate situation I am calm. Worried to death and scared? Absolutely. But I don’t lose it or become hysterical. I’m going to credit my mother – a nurse and first responder -and her genes for this.
I sat in The Living Room on Wheels, tense and shaking. I tried to close my eyes, but my mind was overrun with possibilities. How could I sleep if he came running up the road and I wasn’t awake to greet him? Would he get worried and race away? Would he wait by the car? Would he run into the highway? Where was he? Why had he not backtracked? Was he even still in the area? I’m not naive. I have experience from being a kid and adult with dogs that get lost and confused. I’m intimately aware of the possibilities not only personally, but from friends. Just because my own dogs have always come back from adventuring or becoming confused, doesn’t mean that Rhys couldn’t run for miles and miles away. But where? Would he run onto Highway 18? That prospect left me ill as he’d surely be hit. The only other options were that he might have gone across the river. Then what? The wilderness area there is expansive. It is riddled with service roads and old trails, not to mention acres upon acres of woods, creeks, river, underbrush, and a whole lot of predators. While the area gets some hikers and some mountain bikers, most of it is sparsely visited.
And of course, there were other possibilities. Was he not responding and not coming back because he was hurt? Was he dead?
Most of these latter thoughts ran through my head when I drove back home. Around midnight I decided I could not torment my other dogs, mostly Youke, any longer. While Brady was tired, he seemed fairly okay. But Camm and especially Youke were freaked out. At twelve and a half, I owed Youke his warm bed, food and some time to chill.
When I got home I realized I was cold and very wet from climbing into some of the underbrush looking and searching for Rhys. I climbed into bed shaking and teeth chattering, heavy dry socks on my feet, trying to warm up. My whole body was tense and drawn tight. Camm usually sleeps on or near my legs and feet, especially if she knows I’m worked up. Youke curls into a ball and sleeps by my shoulders. But Rhys is the dog that stretches out, often his full length and works his way into my body, his big, heavy head usually resting either on my thigh or my back. I dearly missed his warm, heavy presence, not only because I was so cold, but for what his absence represented. My tribe was incomplete.
While I was tempted to give in to the dark thoughts swirling in my head, I instead steadied myself and replayed everything in my head, forcing myself to think clearly, calmly and logically. I weighed the various options, possibilities and directions. I discarded some completely, told myself I couldn’t think about others right then and examined those that seemed the most likely because ultimately, I know my dogs, and I know Rhys. I honed in on that nameless ethereal connection and tried to send out a tether for Rhys to grab. I thought about how scared he must be. Much more so than I. I thought about how he’s never been apart from me at night except for two separate times he stayed with friends as a puppy. I thought about how athletic he is. I thought about how he thinks things through after initially acting out of instinct.
I didn’t sleep and set my alarm for 4am. But I did lightly doze for maybe an hour. It was as I was drifting in and out of consciousness that I had a premonition/vision/hunch/idea – whatever you want to call it. I strongly thought he had in fact gone deep into the ravine and gorse, somehow crossed the river and gone up the other side. In my vision/premonition/hunch I saw him clearly standing on the forest service road across from the area I had last called to him in the daylight and not too far from where I thought I’d heard him howl back that night. I also told myself he was okay.
Nevertheless, telling myself all of this still did not clear all the other possibilities and dark likelihoods from my head at 4am. I showered and dressed as showering clears my head and I knew I wanted my wits about me. I made some signs to bring with me to post with his description, noting his collar color, tags, bear bell and that he was microchipped, as well as the area he had disappeared in and where he might be. I prepared my backpack, drank some water as by then I was extremely dehydrated, and decided to bring Brady with me.
Brady was company for me in case friends and I ended up splitting in different directions, he’s good at alerting to things, and I figured he’d be a comforting presence for Rhys should he see or smell Brady. I know that despite what is often depicted in movies and video of people separated and then reunited with their dogs that dogs get scared and freaked and do not always come to their person. Dogs have been known to actually be physically in close proximity to people, even their owner, looking for them and still hide. Brady was just a bit more insurance for me getting Rhys back successfully.
I also know that Rhys is friendly enough with people, but he’s not really drawn to them unless he knows them well. He is well known for doing what I call his “drive-by.” He quickly goes up or by a person, and then immediately swings away and doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. I knew deep down that it would have to be me that actually found him to get him back.
I headed out at 5:15am, got a coffee, and drove toward 18. As I was driving, intuition kicked in and I thought about pulling into the area where I knew I could access the service road I thought he might be on. But I’ve never hiked in that area at all and don’t know the trails or exactly how to get to the area I thought he was at. I also figured it’s best to head back to the scene of the crime so to speak and I had said I was meeting Robin there.
As I drove past I noted a car with a bike rack and a bike propped against it. The car in front of me pulled into that parking area. I was surprised that at 5:30am mountain bikers would be going for a ride, but didn’t give it too much thought except that I’d come back later and explore the area and post signs if Rhys wasn’t found. There was always the chance a mountain biker might sight him.
I met Robin and off we set, my fourth time hiking that hillside in 12 hours. We set a steady, fast pace and called and whistled consistently. We saw my jacket still laying where I’d left it. My echo continued to reverberate from the foothills surrounding us. Robin had binoculars and scouted from the top where it’s been clear cut and you can see to across the river. Nothing. I showed Robin the exact area where Rhys had disappeared and relayed the entire scene. She’d only seen the area in the dark and was not familiar with the area at all. We discussed Rhys maybe trying to head back through the Rattlesnake Scenic Area to a section many miles away with which he was familiar. We saw and heard nothing.
We traversed the entire area again, retracing steps again. Although not knowing the area, Robin strongly felt Rhys might have gone in roughly the same direction as I did. I mentioned I had not posted anything to the Lost Dogs of King County Facebook page or on other sites yet. Robin suggested I do that right then, which I did. By then it was roughly 8am.
We were turning for the latter loop when I headed off again to an overlook that drops off into thick underbrush, woods and the river beyond that. But this area is a bit more open and you can see part of the forest service road beyond.
I called. Rhys howled back.
LOST. THEN FOUND.
I called again. I received a long, mournful howl back and then some yips. I ran back toward Robin. “Did you hear, did you hear? It’s Rhys!” I continued calling and continued to get his howls back in response. His vocalizations were strong and powerful. He was alive. And strong enough to holler back loudly.
But I realized he wasn’t moving. Granted, he’d have a hell of a journey to get to me. Back down a steep slope, across the river, back through dense underbrush and back up the embankment.
I had a decision to make. I knew where he was and roughly how to get there. There was no feasible way to get there on foot though. We’d have to drive a couple of miles up 18 to access the area and walk up from there. But now that he’d heard me, would he decide to move from where he was and try to get to me? Could he even move? Was he trapped or hurt?
I took a chance and told Robin we were going to have to drive to the other area.
Just then my phone rang. I’d had friends checking in and some were arranging to come out to look, but I didn’t recognize the caller’s number. It was a mountain biker named Brent.
Brent and his friend had been mountain biking early in the morning and seen Rhys at 6:05. They were in fact the guys whose cars I’d seen when I drive by at roughly 5:30-5:45am. They said Rhys was friendly enough and visible, but would not come to them. They said he looked scared. They did manage to snap two pictures and posted those pictures on a social page the mountain bikers use. Someone put two and two together and linked my post with theirs and provided my phone number to them.
I do not know this man and his friend, but every nasty thing I’ve said and thought about mountain bikers was changed yesterday. Brent not only talked to me and gave me details on Rhys and his condition, he also told me he maps all of his rides with an app called Strava. Brent provided me with the map of his ride, the pinpoint where he saw Rhys, and then texted me back immediately with the rough mileage point of where Rhys was seen.
Robin and I booked it back to the cars and drove toward I-90 as the road we needed to get on to the forest service gate is basically at the intersection of the two highways. Pam and Wade had hiked in that area for a short bit a few months earlier and Pam gave me some landmarks to look for via phone as Robin and I hoofed it up the road.
I’m so glad I had that map from the biker. Not being familiar with the area and spotting some possible turn-offs and forks, all I had to do was quickly refer to the map and not waste time trying to figure roads out. I called, but being wooded on both sides, my voice was likely muffled. I voiced to Robin my fear that Rhys has decided to go toward where he’d last heard my voice and was gone again. She told me we couldn’t go there. We both then thought about how he’d been seen at 6:05am and at roughly 8am when I called and got a response, he was in the same area. That was a good sign I thought.
We started approached a more open area where my voice would hopefully carry further. There was a slight bend in the road just ahead of us.
And then, I saw him. Running as fast as he could toward me. The sight I’d been hoping, wishing, bargaining for since 5pm the previous day. It was approximately 9:30am.
I started to bawl as soon as I saw him. Robin shushed me and being someone truly knowledgeable about dogs, told me to contain myself for a bit longer or I’d scare him. But pretty much as soon as the leash was clipped on the tears and snot started to flow.
He was hungry, he was clearly exhausted, but he didn’t appear to be broken and most importantly, Rhys was back with me.
LOST. REFLECTIONS AND THE AFTERMATH.
My emotional state was a bit much for Rhys and I was glad I did have Brady with me as he did nuzzle Brady when he first saw him. He also cleaned out Robin’s treat pouch, as well as one of the bags of food I brought with me.
We walked back much more slowly – we were all physically spent and 9:30am felt like 3:30pm by then – and met up with Patti. Rhys was happy to see another favorite person and to eat stuff from her. In fact, Patti was brilliant enough to bring string cheese not only for Rhys, but for me and Robin too. I realized I was starving then. Patti then whipped out some pastries she had brought. Because you know what you need after your dog has been lost and you’ve been searching for nearly all of roughly 16.5 hours he’s been gone and are an emotional wreck after finding him because you held it together without panicking but it took superhuman effort – SUGAR!
As we neared the forest service gate again we saw a Subaru parked behind it and a woman opening the gate up. We all exclaimed “Where were you a while ago? We could’ve driven up this road!” She in turn hollered back, “Is that him? Is that the lost dog?”
She was another of the fabulous people in this story. She had seen my post on the lost dogs page and lives in the area and has access to the forest service gates. From my description of where Rhys was lost and where he could be, she knew exactly where to look. She was just a bit late to the party.
As we talked, although briefly, Rhys flopped down. It was evident he was just barely holding it together himself. He also was starting to act sore. I checked his paws and legs and observed he had some sore and scraped up pads and the backs of his forelegs and hocks were pink and tender. He jumped into his crate after eating more food and drinking some water and then rolled onto his side to rest.
I had another mini-breakdown in the comforting presence of friends and we had a coffee drink to celebrate. I updated the post about Rhys being lost with the good news and quickly returned a few calls and texts with the outcome.
After Patti and Robin left to go home and get much needed rest, I sat behind the wheel of The LRoW and sobbed. All the pent up emotion of the past several hours came pouring out. I recovered enough to return a few more texts, including to the mountain biker who had asked that I update him. I thanked him profusely and told him he had some major good karma coming. Still crying, I drove back home.
Rhys was dazed and seemed out of it when we got back. Camm and Youke greeted him and wanted to examine him, but Rhys very clearly warned them to keep away. He didn’t snarl or lift a lip, but it was quite evident he did not want anyone bothering him. He drank, ate a good amount of food, and then jumped on the couch. I joined him. Oddly, he didn’t want to touch, but he did want to be near. We dozed on and off for much of the day. I cried some more. All of us were spent.
I examined Rhys a bit more and while he didn’t have anything serious, his paw pads are raw in some places and his lower legs, front and back, are very pink and pretty raw in some places, although not deeply cut. He was also extremely sore, moving the way I’d expect a 16 year old dog would. He’s only three and a half. He also looked slightly vacant.
By evening he was slightly more alert, but still exhausted and sleeping heavily in between me feeding him, getting him water and taking him outside to pee. By evening he was back on the couch with me and while still not cuddly, at least intertwined his legs with mine.
We went to bed upstairs early and while he managed to jump on the bed, he didn’t nestle next to me as he usually does. I was sad, but didn’t force anything. Then, at 5am this morning and after I’d let them all out to pee as we’d gone to bed so early, he hopped back into bed and snuggled tightly into the side of my body. Rhys shoved his nose deep into my armpit, took a deep whiff, and then sighed heavily and drove his body more tightly into mine. I knew then everything was going to be alright. When we did actually get up this morning, he barked and chortled as he always does and he did his usual dance for breakfast.
As I write this, he’s still exhausted, still very sore, his tummy is upset, but he’s engaging with me, following me around and not letting me out of his sight per usual and barking when we go to the door. That latter is an annoying habit, but one I am so very happy to hear right now.
I wish he could tell me about his night alone in the woods, but I’d probably be terrified. I wish he could tell me about why he went, for how far and mostly, why for so long. Did he get disoriented? Did he pitch forward and tumble down and couldn’t get back up? Did he really lose his way? Why didn’t he backtrack? Did he get overheated and rest in the river and then lose scent? What made him go across the river? Was he chased by something? How scary was it? How hard was going down and through that gorse and then getting back up to the other side? Could he hear me calling? Did he try to to call me? Could we just not hear each other? Did he think I abandoned him?
And I’ve questioned myself. I called myself stupid and arrogant. I wished fervently that I had brought Rhys with me the day previously to walk with friends and not brought him on Thursday. I wished I hadn’t suggested doing the longer route and just been satisfied with doing the short loop. Mostly, I wished I’d put him on leash.
And that is where I know I could and likely will be castigated. However, believe me I’ve already told myself all the things anyone could say to me. And I will warn anyone that is interested in lecturing or scolding me – I’ve already done that for you. So, just don’t go there please.
No dog has 100% recall. That’s the truth, no matter what anyone tells you and no matter how great a trainer they are. I do believe many dogs, including some of my own, have 90%, 95%, even 99% recall. But there’s always that slight chance, that just right circumstance that will tempt fate. I know that, I live with that. I’ve hiked on a regular basis with dogs for nearly 20 years, on leash and off leash, contingent upon the dog(s), the region and the circumstances. I went on a long hike a week ago in the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest and Alpine Lakes Wilderness Region with three of my dogs, off leash the entire time. I put a lot of work, effort and training in recalls with my dogs. It is a skill that is worked their entire lives. But I still take a chance any time I have a dog off leash. I weigh that with enrichment and quality of life. Brady, who at 3.5 years, the same age as Rhys is now, had a highly developed need for adventure, finally went on a long line or didn’t get to go on many hikes. That was the case for over three years. Then I slowly began testing him and trusting him. I found something that was more rewarding than food for him and used it. I altered the way and where I hiked when I brought him. He was still on leash more often than off, but gradually, we came to an understanding and trust. He sometimes still pushes those trust boundaries, thus, he was leashed up when walking with friends on Wednesday. Yet I can trust him completely to do a serious 20+ mile hike with me without venturing far ahead and with him regularly stopping and waiting or checking back in.
Maybe Rhys will get there, but I do know my dog. I do not believe Rhys learned any “lesson” from this experience – much as I would like to think so. He has an incredible nose, he has a strong independent streak and he’s triggered by motion and his prey drive. He’s got a really great recall, until he just doesn’t. Much as I believe in the freedom for dogs to be off leash and to obtain the enrichment from running that they really need and crave, Rhys will be on a long line for a long time. Maybe forever. He’ll get opportunities to be off leash for short spurts in a few select places and contained areas. I think I’ll experiment with a GPS unit as well. However, right now the trauma is too fresh and much as I balance and weigh the risk on a regular basis on off leash/on leash with my dogs, I’m tilting the scales heavily in my favor for Rhys for a long time. And yes, I know there are the told you so-ers out there that will tell me I should’ve been doing this all along.
Meanwhile, we’re doing a lot of sleeping this weekend. Probably a lot of thinking about our choices. I’ll also be noting that despite the 1% of mountain bikers that may be jerks, the vast majority are pretty damn wonderful and I’ll be sending them all a friendly wave from now on. And for me anyway, some thinking about our futures.