Too Young and Bold or Too Old and Wary

Young mothers and old pet owners share wariness. As a new mother I worried about my first child-- his first steps, turned to falling, sent my heart racing, my legs running, my arms reaching. My third child - I barely remember his learning to walk. Why did I not remember that?

As an old pet owner I seem to have regressed to the young mother  syndrome. My  trusted dog, Petronius, old like me was a stay close to home, come on the double when whistled for, sleep long hours  Mutt. But Petronius developed a stomach tumor, which claimed his life.

Since my husband's death my home had been a two person habitat -- me and Petronius. With Petronius gone it was just me! A lonely existence. That's how I came to have Madigan-- a not quite two year old beagle-terrier mix. My instinct had been to adopt an older dog, but this cute little white with brown spots Mutt stole my heart when I learned he was on the 'to be killed list'.

Now to my old woman wariness. I was so diligent at keeping Madigan on leash unless confined to the house or fenced in garden. The fear he might stray from home and not find his way home haunted me. And stray I knew he would for his need to chase rabbits was unconquerable. And so many rabbits live in my yard and surrounding property. One look from any window in my house will reveal not one or two but three or four or more. If in the house Madigan runs from window to window. If on the leash outside he pulls so hard I am pulled along.

Thus the following scene. The usual 11PM leash walk for bladder and bowel relief on this night was a nightmare. Barely out the door, firmly leashed, Madigan saw or heard or sensed a rabbit. A quick jerk-- he was gone, dragging his leash behind him, disappearing in the dark.

Clad in nightgown, slippers, flashlight in hand, whistle on the lanyard around my neck, I trod my yard-- for what seemed hours. My heart was heavy. I imagined him gone forever. No word but FRANTIC is applicable.

Finally exhausted from walking, calling, whistling and hoping I collapsed on the glider on the front porch. A tear rolled down my cheek. I had lost Madigan.  How long I sat I am not sure. But Madigan-- out if breath , dragging his leash, bounded onto the porch. He jumped into my lap. I clasped him to my chest.

I need an old dog, but I so love this young one.