The Weekly Fare . . . January 14, 2002

Choose Your Targets Well

As detailed in an earlier column, our dog Goose is a "melting pot." One which stumped a panel of Veterinarians who upon first inspection said there was no guarantee that she was a dog at all, but that given the overall shape and the fact that she occasionally barked, felt that it was indeed a possibility. (They were willing to overlook the "bobcat sprigs" on her ears and her multi-striped tail that is more raccoon than canine.)

Goose has one wish in life and that is to catch other animals. This wouldn't be such a problem if she were a dog of average speed, but along with Bobcat and Raccoon there must be some Whippet or Greyhound going on because the dog can flat out fly.

Recently, while on my way to work I received a call on my cell phone from a friend who advised me that "what appeared to be a heat-seeking missile" had locked on to my car as I traveled down Jefferson Street.

"Must have been Goose," I replied. "Is she still there?"

"Nope. Broke off the chase to pursue a cat in a yard on 22nd street . . . But I've got to tell you that is the fastest dog - nay animal - on the planet. You couldn't see her legs beneath her - it was just one big blur . . . That dog is a rocket!"

Many has been the day that my wife and I have been happily motoring a few blocks away from our house under the assumption that Goose is in our fenced in backyard, only to glance out our window to see her easily keeping pace with us on the sidewalk at 27 MPH. She appears to be jogging at that speed and while it's tempting to floor it, it rarely works - she just generally digs deep and catches us at the next stop sign a couple of blocks away.

"Get in Goose,"comes the exasperated invitation. Goose leaps in with a HUGE smile on her face and her biggest fans who've been waiting on her arrival in the backseat give her a hero's welcome:

"Way to go Goose! Nice running old girl - I knew you could do it! Welcome aboard Missile-dog!!"

As mentioned Goose's primary mission in life is the pursuit of other animals, and she makes no distinction as to race, creed, religion or size. For while she loves to train on squirrels and mostly practices a "catch and release" approach to the sport, she's just as happy chasing a 200-pound deer on our land in West Virginia.

Her only problem is that she hasn't quite figured out how to release them yet.

Recently, while up at the Lodge as the children and I prepared for a cross country skiing sortie, I heard three distinct yelps followed by a howl of pain. It came from several hundred yards away on a ridge that bordered the National Forest. I knew instantly it was Goose and could only assume that she had come across a wild animal that was in the process of teaching her the valuable lesson that not all things in life are meant to be chased.

By the sound of the last yelp, I knew she might be in some serious trouble. There was an old logging trail leading in that general direction so I started jogging toward our four-wheel-drive. But before I could reach it, I heard a second series of yelps - this time much closer. I paused and looked out over the ponds and through a clearing to the railroad tracks beyond. The children gathered around me noticing the concern on my face.

"What's wrong with Goose?" one of them queried.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Might be a Bobcat . . . or a porcupine . . . or worse yet a skunk . . ."

"Lord, I hope it's not a skunk!" I added.

Just then Goose broke into the clearing along the railroad tracks. She was in a full sprint. My friend was right - you really couldn't see her feet at that speed. We could, however, discern the brush shaking and moving behind her and moments later her pursuer appeared. It was a huge Mountain Buck - his head was down and he was clearly on the warpath. Goose, for her part, was making some pretty good time, but now that they were out of the deep snow and on the relatively hard packed surface of the railroad bed, the Buck was gaining ground.

The children stood watching in amazement. "I didn't know deer chased dogs?" one of them remarked.

"I didn't either," I replied.

We jogged up the road a short distance to get a better view. Goose and the deer disappeared behind a grove of spruce trees as she raced down the tracks. It was clear her intentions were to get to the main drive and then take a left for the lodge. I wasn't sure she was going to make it, but somehow she did. She made a gazelle-like leap from the rail bed and came rocketing down the road directly at us. The buck made the turn in similar fashion but slammed on the brakes as soon as we came in to view. Goose also saw us and went back in to "brave mode" by executing a beautiful sliding 180-degree spin halfway between the deer and the spot where we were standing.

Time stopped. The buck stood there frozen, steam huffing from its nostrils. Goose released a low guttural growl as though she had this critter EXACTLY where she wanted him. She looked back at us and half wagged her tail as if to say, "Pretty good, huh?"

I called her by name and told her to come. She of course took off after the buck as though it were a squirrel. The buck, now in our presence, must have felt endangered as he shot back up the driveway, now taking a right and disappearing from view on the snow-covered main road that leads into the National Forest. Goose was on him in hot pursuit.

The next part made my trip. It was like something out of a cartoon. Not more than five seconds after Goose disappeared around the corner, she came roaring back around again with the charging buck right on her heels. Video cameras are never handy when you need them.

This time Goose didn't come back down the road toward us but rather leapt atop a four foot high snowdrift on the side of the road created by the plow. She spun around with feet spread and tail held high ready to defend the honor of all dogs everywhere. Miraculously the buck was game! He slid right up to Goose who on top of the drift was slightly taller than he was! They almost touched noses!

Goose growled and snarled as though she had pinned the most dangerous creature in all of creation. The buck snorted and whistled and stamped its feet as if to say, "if you don't leave me and my girls alone, I'm going to have to bury you in that snowbank there . . ."

The children looked on in disbelief.

"Dad? Do deer and dogs usually do this?" Gussie asked.

"Apparently they do from time to time . . . ," I reluctantly replied.

Several moments passed - maybe as much as a minute. Finally the buck cast a glance our way and apparently realizing that discretion is indeed the better part of valor, took off down the road with Goose in hot pursuit. It was the last we saw of her for over an hour.

That night, I was sure I could discern the hint of a smile on her face as she slept in front of the fire. My guess is that she still had that deer on the run in some far distant land where only dogs dream . . . I couldn't help giving her a little extra rub and a "that's my girl" as I headed off to bed. She really is quite the dog.

And while I suppose there are some things in life that really shouldn't be chased, if you've got the gift, it's hard not to use it. For the day will certainly come when all that is left will be to lay by the fire and dream the dream of those who have "fought the battle well . . ."

So run while you can, but choose those targets carefully!