Pardon Me, but I'm Morally Opposed to Leaving the Driveway.

I tried to take my friend's dog for a walk today.
... I figured it would be more successful than my attempt *yesterday* - mind, yesterday I tried to take her for a "run", not a walk, which may explain the following:

1 step out of the door, the dog (Roxy) and I are both excited. I've never gone for a run with a puppy before, and if she zipped around outside like she spasmodically zipped *inside*... this could be fun.
2 steps out of the door - the leash jerks out of my hand.

... and Roxy can zip, let me tell you.

What followed was a half-block sprint chase, involving teasing, coy looks, and sudden spurts of energy (the dog) and pleading, shouting, and last, determined, desperate reaches for the leash (me).
... long story short - I caught the dog... who, upon being caught, sat down immediately in the middle of the street and refused to go a step further.

... I carried her back to the house.

Today, however, I was mentally resolved to make things turn out differently. Zippy could take a calm, long walk with me, and we could get to know each other a bit as I led her - securely fastened - around the neighborhood. With the air of Santa Claus giving out a particularly big gift, I knelt down in front of the dog and introduced the idea of a walk.
"Walk???????" I said, extra perky. "Do you want to go for a walk????????"

Roxy looked skeptical, but let me hook up the leash. She even let me walk her out to the driveway.
... but... on the driveway... she suddenly refused to go further. Apparently, she wants no part of venturing out into the street. Nerves? Maybe. But so staunch was her resolve that it seemed more like moral opposition. She'd been against that sort of activity from the start, she would *certainly* not change NOW.
... I picked her up and began to carry her down the street.
Perhaps, like my friend's puppy back home, she just needed to be shown that it was okay to venture down the block before heading back home. At the end of the block, I set her down, hoping that she would be energized to explore, now that she was away from the house.

... nope. Sat and watched me stoically.
... so I picked her back up, walked another block. We were now on a new street, though connected via curve to her own.
I set her down.
... and there she sat.

I picked her up again.
"Roxy," I said, "We are going for a walk whether you like it or not. I will carry you the entire darn way if I have to, but you and I are going to make it around the neighborhood." She regarded me, again, stoically, big dark eyes focused on my eyes, then my arms, as if to ask how silly I was to think that I was strong enough to carry her for 45 minutes or so.
... my eyes dared her to believe I wouldn't do it.

Finally - we reached a new part of the neighborhood, one not connected nor remotely related to her home street. With a small, small, hesitant pause, I set her down.
She scanned the street.
She looked at me.
She turned back to the street...

... the leash jerked out of my hand.



I love dogs.