I know I just wrote a post about my dogs and I was going to hold off on writing another one about them for a bit, but something came up. We’ve discovered that Bandit is a genius (note the incredible sarcasm that I cannot convey through text).
Just last Friday, my dad and I decide to take the dogs for an evening walk before supper. It was a beautiful day, the sun had yet to set, and we wanted to see the many ponds that had appeared over the last few rains we’ve had. Golden light basked everything, stretching its touch to every leaf on the forest floor. Everything was going really well! We walked to the very edge of our property where a river flowed down a little waterfall and continued into the neighbor’s land
We realized the sun was setting, so my dad and I turned back and Ranger, Bandit, and Addie took the lead, racing up and down the hills and around us like the psycho pups they are. Every once in a while, they’d push the boundaries a bit and Dad and I would call them, sending them running back towards us with their tongues lolling around in their mouth and their jowls flapping in the wind.
We topped the first hill and looked around to find Bandit and Ranger were both missing. Backtracking a few steps, we saw them sniffing at the fence that separated the two properties.
Now let me tell you of Bandit’s thoughts on barbed wire fences; they are but a challenge to be conquered. EVERY SINGLE TIME TAKE HIM FOR A WALK HE FEELS THE NEED TO DUCK UNDER THEM. And I don’t mean a dainty, well thought out duck. I mean a running full tilt, psychotic, daredevil duck that makes your heart skip a few beats. You’d think he’d slow down at least a little bit, but NOPE! He continues top speed and at the last second suddenly somehow makes his body flat and dives underneath them.
With that being said I’ll continue with the story. Dad and I tried to call them off, but they simply wouldn’t listen.
“Keep walking,” Dad instructed. “They’ll come back eventually.”
And I agreed. As I mentioned in the previous post, they have major separation anxiety and can’t be away from us for too long; normally they’ll only let us out of their sight for a minute or two. But as we kept walking, neither puppy joined us and Addie. We began calling their names again, blowing the dog whistle, and squeaking the squeaky ball we keep handy. All of a sudden Ranger comes racing from IN FRONT OF US.
“How’d he get there?!” I exclaimed to my father.
Dad shrugged. “He must’ve gone around.”
I began scouting the hill above us for Bandit. And sure enough I see a spotty blur speed past us on the hill above.
“BANDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” I called out.
He looked over at me and stopped for a few seconds before spinning around in a few circles and continuing to run in a loopy, circular, weird pattern.
“That’s weird. Not at all like him,” I muttered.
We got about halfway back to the house and darkness was steadily descending, but we were still without my spotty buddy. The plan was to go back to the house, get a few things, and take Dad’s truck to go find Bandit.
“Maybe he went back to the house,” I suggested. “That was the direction he was headed.”
He had pulled stunts like this before. One time he slipped his leash while I was pottying him and took off, not coming back when I called him. I went inside to grab treats and a squeaky ball to attract him, but by the time I got to the things I needed, he was barreling up the hallway towards me from the opposite end of the house. Apparently he had been scratching at the front door to get in.
Anyway, when we got back to the house, Mom was standing in the garage door with Bandit rubbing against her.
“When did he get here?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” my mom admitted. “I just opened the door and there was a Bandit!”
“He’s bleeding,” my sister, Emily, pointed out.
“What?!” I asked not sure that I had heard her correctly.
“He’s got a big gash on his hind leg,” she said, pointing
My mom grabbed his collar to stop him from moving and sure enough, a bright red streak popped into my vision. About four inches by one inch, he had literally filleted the skin right off of his muscle. And he didn’t seem to care at all! He wasn’t favoring his foot, he wasn’t whining, he didn’t care when we tried to look and touch around it! He never yelped, complained, fidgeted, or moved.
Dad called the 24 hour vet and we began the trip down the hill to get to civilization. When we got to the vet, we noticed a few spots on his back that didn’t seem as bad as the one on his leg. We explained what we thought happened to the doctor. So here’s our theory: he was running at top speed like he normally would and tried to duck under the fence, but ended up going between two of the barbed wires, scraping his back and catching his leg.
They had to give him staples and stitches and he was admitted over night with a forecasted recovery of two weeks or more. Maybe this’ll teach him to stay away with barbed wire (though I highly doubt it). He gets to spend the next two weeks in isolation and, consequentially, so do I.
Needless to say, his off-leash privileges have been revoked until further notice.
Good job, buddy. Your intelligence knows no bounds.
Julia E. Flowers