It was two days after Halloween. My yard decorations were packed away, the skeletons were back in the closet. I returned home to three dogs dancing at the door, eager to go outside into the inky, moonless yard. I broke my rule with Abby and did not put her on a leash. I praised her for how well she was behaving. I peered closely and noticed as she sniffed an azalea bush, she was giving me the side-eye. Soon the side-eye turned into stealthy side walking. Just as I was preparing to step forward and snatch her, she made her move, bolting into the blackness of the yard. A mostly black dog with a black hoodie is hard to find. I caught movement near the street and I blazed toward her in my high heels, soon running smack into her side. Abby had abruptly stopped and I could her crunching something in her mouth. I worried that she had a chicken bone or other unsavory object in her mouth and began to pat her snout with my hand. I found a stick. A stick? It wasn't wooden. It was a lollipop stick. I tugged at the stick and she tugged back. A battle ensued and soon after I was rewarded with the stick and she still had the candy. I looped my hand through her collar and pulled her toward the house. She happily complied, all the while crunching and munching on her leftover Halloween treat.
I took away a valuable lesson in keeping her leashed and she took away a lollipop. Abby 1 Me 0.
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