I Do

I do love Flip.

Like I said in a previous post, he's a good dog. However, Flip does have his foibles. I guess that would make him foibled Flip.

I digress.

Sometimes Flip likes to become an escape artist. Not only can he escape from "his" room (the laundry room), he frequently escapes from the Cabana to gallivant wherever he chooses.

Let's go back in time a month ago, shall we?

Two feet of snow cover the ground. Flip's usually visible leash is now engulfed in a heavy blanket of white powder. Robbie lets Flip out sans leash, and Flip is free. I guess that would make him Free Flip. Well, Free Flip is not quite as tall as some of these snow drifts that have accumulated in our backyard. Nevertheless, Flip runs. Robbie, who is probably mildly stressed that a dog he does not possess runs away, goes in the backyard searching for Flip. I hear through a friend he even looked underneath the shed. Robbie is a good man.

Anyways, Flip continues running. He powerfully leaps over snow drifts. He gracefully dodges the branches in the woods beside Clover Cabana. He gleefully barks at the neighbor dogs who remain confined by the fences that stifle their own flights of freedom.

Free Flip is a happy Flip. However, Free Flip does not make a happy Anne. Free Flip makes a nervous, worried Anne who cannot leave her house until Flip returns.

He usually returns, but still, it's nerve-wracking when he runs. Once I cornered him in the neighbor's yard and dragged him down the long stretch of our driveway. Once I found him cowering underneath our porch stairs because he was so tired. See, Flip returns when you let him run. But still . . . it is annoying.

So, about this specific instance I was describing. I busy myself with mundane tasks around the house until Flip returns. Several times I see him at the end of the driveway, but if I make a move toward him, he bolts in the other direction. If Flip thinks he's being pursued, he runs the other direction (usually across Leesville Rd.). This is what I will call Flight of the Flip.

Well, I leave food on the porch and hope that he comes back. Then, by chance, I look outside the window and I see the dog catcher at the end of my driveway. Now it is my turn to bolt. I am wearing slippers and sweatpants as I run to the dog catcher. Of course Flip goes right up to the man who leashes him into submission. This is Friendly Flip. Friendly Flip will approach anybody who is not pursuing him. This is not me, however. Flip runs from me when I run after Flip. It's a terrible cycle.

Well, the dog catcher summarily chews me out about having my dog on a leash and yada yada yada. Flip is shivering from the cold and the dog catcher laces a rope through his collar so I can take him back to the house. This is Freezing Flip. I yell at Flip loudly and my friends make fun of me for my harsh demeanor. I feed Flip but decide to remain standoffish. He tries to lick my feet, but I refuse his peace offerings.

I am mad. I am indignant. But then I get over it. It's the usual.

So, Flip returns once again, but Flip gets loose once again only days later.

The cycle continues.

But, mostly, I do love Flip.