The Amazing Flying Dog
The Amazing Flying Dog.
Dogs do amazing things that surprise us. Animals have been known to save their loved ones from fires and disasters. They make us laugh at their high jinks and cry when grow old and leave us. They listen intently as we pour our souls out to them and sit by a child with chicken pox. Some dogs round up cows or sheep others guard homes and properties. There are hero dogs and once in awhile there are villain dogs, but how many dogs fly?
Bella as we called her was a fawn boxer with a black nose and four white stockings of varying heights on her legs. Most weekends I took her with me up North to our country home. Each morning she ran along with me as I jogged down the country roads that roamed east, west, north, and south from the Chalet. The morning was wet with rain from the night before, although the sun shone over the ripening fields of corn, I decided to leave her at home. She jumped on the bed and watched me, her stubby tail wagging back and forth in excited anticipation as I tied my running shoes. “Not today,” I told her as I hurried down the stairs and headed for the great outdoors. As I stretched I could see her nose pressed against the wavy glass of the bay window. I gave a quick wave and headed down the winding lane toward the road.
I took the road straight out the drive. The beginning of any run always made me wonder why I did this. It took me awhile before I got my legs under me and into the zone looking for that euphoric high that comes with pumped up endorphins. Finally, I was there, in that place that runners seek when I thought I heard a noise behind me. I shrugged it off and kept at my pace. The noise became louder refusing to be ignored. It sounded like clicking on the pavement. I turned around to see what followed me in such a rush. I stopped dead in my tracks. Bella raced towards me full throttle like a missile locked into its target. When she caught up I scolded her for following me, but instead of hanging her head and tucking her tail down, she scurried off into the field to nose around. I called her back and together we turned back toward the house.
I started jogging, slowed to a fast walk and finally an easy walk with pink tongued Bella dripping foamy saliva walking content and happy beside me. My mind raced trying to figure out how she got out of the house. I closed the door behind me. No windows were open due to the heavy downpour the night before. How did this naughty boxer find a way out? It couldn’t have been my parents… they had not come up to the family Chalet that weekend (they were attending a wedding). My girlfriend at that time was at work and besides, she would not have let the dog chase me down the road. The mystery of how she got out kept me pondering all the way home.
Once in the house I went from room to room checking the windows and doors downstairs. Everything was intact, nothing broken. Later in the morning Bella and I were outside in the back yard, I was sitting on the terrace having my breakfast. I just happened to peer up at my bedroom window. Something looked odd. It looked as if the screen had been punched out. I set my coffee aside and flew up the stairs with the dog at my heels. Mystery solved: Bella had run up the stairs, across the four poster bed, hitting the screen at a full run. The screen broke open and she had to have flown out the upstairs window. To this day I picture her flying through the air jubilant and free. I imagine that she landed hard on the ground softened by the soaking the night before. Surprisingly, she broke nothing, had no scratches or injuries of any kind, but for a brief moment she was the amazing flying dog that flew out a window and down a road to share a morning jaunt with the master.
A couple years later, Bella died of cancer at the age of five. I miss her terribly. She was my running mate, my sweet companion who made me laugh, and to all who knew her the amazing flying dog.
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