Wild and Free

The Trail

It was a beautiful summer day and the birds were up and chirping. Xena trembled with excitement as our tires came to a halt in the Thompson Park lot. She tilted her head back and let out a howl from deep in her chest. Her bright blue eyes stared back at me intently. There was a twinkle in her eyes that highlighted their unique quality: one bright blue, the other half blue and half a light marbled brown. Her expression revealed a warm smile, but also one of discipline and purpose. I placed my hand firmly on her head and gently stroked the bridge of her nose. She let out a low purring growl. The intent in her gaze softened a bit.

She leapt out of the car as I opened the door out into the sunny parking lot. The warm sun engulfed my skin and I could feel the heat emanating from the scorching hot asphault beneath me. It was only about 100 yards of the open paved trail before we reached the trailhead, but I could already feel my sweat soaked shirt clinging to my lower back.

As we entered the trail, the trees blotted out the sun and revealed a dark and winding path. Small rays of light slipped between the tree line above and danced across the forest floor in front of us. We descended a winding dirt and root covered decline down to a small creek. Xena gracefully hopped atop a narrow log bridge and quickly tight roped her way across it. I gingerly made my way across on step at a time trying to avoid slipping. We ascended up the other side of the creek and found a larger trail. The trees still cast their shade from above, but more light protruded through the opening above.

A soothing breeze rolled through the trail signaling our approach to the reservoir. We stopped for a moment and sat on a dirt hill overlooking the water. I could see a faint reflection of us between the ripples below. My long legs were hugged into my chest and my curly blonde hair wavered in the breeze above the stern gaze of my blue-green eyes. Xena laid next to me in a relaxed, but regal looking pose. Her light blue collar and eyes stood out against her white and tan-blonde fur. Her front feet were crossed in a playful manner. People often joked that I was one of these dog owners who started to look more and more like their dog. I’ve always found there to be a strange amount of truth in this for many dog owners. The question it often leaves me with is: Do people seek out dogs who look like them or is it that people and their dog’s appearances change similarly through their shared life experience? Is it a combination of both?

Xena and I originally met serendipitously. I got too drunk one night at a party at a friend’s and had to sleep it off on their couch. I was awakened the next morning by a wet tongue licking my ears and mouth. I remember opening my eyes to see the puppy version of Xena standing on my chest as I lay sprawled out on the couch. She was almost small enough to fit in my shirt pocket back then. She hopped around full of energy challenging me to play a game of tug of war/fetch with her baby lamb toy. She would later get the nickname “Xena Bean” from my sister because she “hopped around like one of those little Mexican jumping beans.”

Thinking back now I wonder what made me want to rescue her just weeks after this meeting. At the time I had no intention of adopting any pet. I was in my junior year of engineering school and was pretty maxed out at the time between my schoolwork and social life. I also knew the reaction it would draw when I brought her home to my parents over the summer. I believe the exact words from my mom were “you are not bringing that beast into my home!” When I came to find out that Xena’s owner, my best friend’s girlfriend at the time, could no longer take care of her I volunteered to take her unprompted. This was very out of character for this younger, less ambitious version of myself. Which begs the question of what prompted me to do it.

Knowing what I know now, I believe that I saw myself in Xena. I saw a young, naïve spirit that had no one to help them. I didn’t really realize how alone I was until I went away to college 700 miles from home. As I self-reflected in the freedom I was experiencing for the first time I felt empty and alone. I realized I had no family or friends as a support system to reach out to. I was not self-aware enough at the time to understand the depth of the emotions I was feeling. But, on some level I knew I simply could not let Xena end up in some pound or rescue all alone.

As my train of thought came to its conclusion we got up and meandered down the dirt path.

The Fenced In Dog Park

We soon found ourselves at the entrance of the off-leash dog park. I had to lean back and brace myself as Xena went into full sled dog mode pulling toward the excitement of the park. The dogs in the park saw Xena coming and a greeting committee of them rushed the front gate jumping up on the fence and crowing with excitement. Xena tilted her head back and let out her signature Husky howl. Her bright blue eyes were full of excitement. Off-leash dog parks usually had this intermediate caged area almost like the pressurizing chamber in space ships you see in movies. You had to enter here and prepare yourself first before entering the dog park. Dogs have a weird pack mentality that leads them to show aggression towards any dog who tries to stand out from the pack. If you were to go into the park with your dog on a leash while all the other dogs were off their leashes, they would attack the on-leash dog. We made our way in and I managed to remove her leash despite her excited squirming. I braced myself and then unlatched the gate into the park and slowly moved it open dragging a couple small dogs with it.

And she was off! Xena barreled and weaved between about 3 dogs and took off in a full sprint. One thing you had to know about Xena: she was fast. I had been taking her to the dog park for a number of years and she had never met her match in speed and elusiveness. We lived near the Monmouth Racetrack growing up and occasionally people would show up to our dog park with a retired racing Greyhound. Even these racing dogs with their insane straight line speed could not hang with Xena. She had an ability to effortlessly throw her hips and change direction without losing a step of speed.

She sprinted out into the middle of the park with about 7 or 8 dogs in tow. She looped around and followed the side fence back to the main entrance and jumped up on top of the bench letting out another excited howl. I walked over and she jumped op on me from the bench licking me excitedly. She liked to use the bench as her home base like a kid playing tag. The dogs slowly caught up and started gathering around the bench. In a flash Xena leapt off the bench and took off again. This time a rather quick Dalmatian that frequented this park was ready for her. The Dalmatian took off right in time with her and stayed close to Xena as they sprinted down the line of the fence. Xena could sense a dog behind her and made a quick maneuver to lose it. She threw her tail to the right to balance herself as her hips flipped and swung her to the left. He feet landed gracefully and she continued her sprint out into the middle of the field. The Dalmatian desperately tried to make the turn but was moving too fast and flew by in the wrong direction nearly falling on its face. A clever Husky friend of Xena’s named Sasha waited for Xena to turn and then took the angle on her, coming to meet her in the middle of the park. Xena saw this and made a juke to slip by as Sasha overshot her target. Xena wheeled back around and once again followed the far fence back to the entryway with 4 or 5 dogs in her wake. At this point the dogs calmed down a bit and walked out into the open field to sniff around. I sat on the bench talking to Sasha’s owner whose name I can’t remember. That was part of the dog park culture. It was basically a big dog party where everyone knew all the dogs and their names, but people barely knew each other’s names.

As we were sitting there talking, I suddenly felt a tension through my body. “Uh oh” I thought to myself. “Where’s Xena?” I have come to learn that dogs communicate through body language and energy more so than verbal communication. Having raised Xena since she was a pup, I could almost immediately pick up a change in her energy. Even subconsciously from a distance. It is always hard to explain unless you can feel it yourself. Sure enough, I looked up and she was standing farther into the park along the fence line staring intently at a family of deer in the woods.

“Xena!” I yelled.

She turned her head back to me making eye contact, but her body stayed pointing towards the deer and her gait was stiff.

“Don’t do it!” I said standing up and moving towards her.

Her eyes flickered with an air of mischief. She turned her head back and sized up the fence for an instant. The fence stood tall above Xena’s 20”, 45 pound frame at about 6 feet tall and few inches. It was a chain link fence with posts spread along its length and one cross bar along the bottom and one along the top. In this particular location the fence posts had tilted just a few degrees outwardly and the chain link in the middle had sagged a bit. Xena saw her opportunity and charged the fence. She jumped at the sagged section with some momentum and then sprung off it like a cat and caught herself with her two front paws on the top crossbar. She pushed off the fence with her feet and threw herself over the top landing gingerly on her feet on the other side. And, again, she was off but this time into the woods.

I stopped running for a minute to catch my breath. I turned back to see the other dog owners standing there shocked at what they had just seen. I turned to Sasha’s owner

“I am so glad you’re here right now. No one would have believed me” I said jokingly.

“I don’t know what you’re doing still standing here” he said raising his eyebrow at me.

“Oh right. Crap.”

I scaled the fence and swung myself over to chase after her. I was not quite as shocked as the crowd. I had owned Xena for a few years at this point and I had lost track of how many times she had gotten loose. I used to joke with people that my first kid was going to be a real troublemaker and Xena was the universe’s way of preparing me for it. From all the times chasing Xena around town I knew every neighbor, police officer, pound, and animal rescue in the area. In fact, Xena was so well known and liked by the local police that they would call me when they got her and tell me to come by later because Xena was hanging out with them.

As I ran toward the woods, I saw that the deer had circled around and were coming back towards me with Xena in tow. The thick trees cast a dark shadow over this section of forest and the ground was haphazardly covered with bushes and patches of mud. The deer blew by me with Xena right behind them before I could even think to move. I ran after them and the group of us zig zagged through the woods. The deer ran through first, followed by Xena, followed by me. I’m sure it was quite the sight to see. The deer circled around again and this time I ran to cut Xena off. When she saw me she stopped and got down low into her playful stance. The mischief was back in her eyes.

“Xena…”

She took off in the other direction at full speed. I spun around to chase her, but my foot sunk into a deep section of mud and when I lifted it out my foot came out of my shoe. I hopped around on one foot and fell into a thicket of pricker bushes. I peeled the pricker covered vines off my clothes leaving a bloody trail behind and then climbed through the mud on my hands and knees and pulled my shoe out. It was too soaked and mud caked to put back on so I just carried it in my hand and ran after Xena with one shoe off. She had stopped to watch me and leaned back down into her playful stance and let out a howl. This time she took off across the street.

“No!” I screamed as a car swerved and skidded to a screeching halt just narrowly missing her. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest with anxiety.

She kept on running towards the high school buildings on the other side of the street and disappeared off into the distance. I gathered myself together and crossed the street, limping my way up to the nearest building on one shoe. In retrospect, I must have been looking pretty crazy, because I was drawing some suspicious stares from the kids hanging out in front of the school. I made my way through the school to find Xena had been caught and was with the librarian. She was an older lady with white fluffy hair and wide frame glasses. She squinted curiously at me as I walked in.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, this is my dog Xena. She got loose at the dog park across the street.” I muttered, still a little winded from the chase.

She looked me up and down suspiciously. Xena was pulling her classic cute, innocent act and pretending like she didn’t know why I looked so bewildered.

“Can you prove that she is your dog? I can’t just be giving her to any stranger.”

I handed her my ID and told her to check it against the name on Xena’s collar.

She took still looking suspiciously at me and checked it. She then reluctantly decided to give Xena to me.

“You’ve got to get her more exercise so she doesn’t try to run away like this.” She said condescendingly.

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and faked a smile.

“Yeah sure thing.”

I was used to this kind of exchange and had lost my patience for it. I would chase Xena down for hours and then be talked down to by someone who has no understanding what it’s like to have a wild dog like this. They would look at me like I was some horrible person who beats and abuses animals. As if it was my fault that she was a runner. The truth is Xena is a runner because she wants to be wild and free. To live her life unleashed. I may have rescued Xena, but in many ways she rescued me. She taught me to forget about rules, obligations, fears, and worries and to be free. She never wasted a moment or failed to take advantage of a good thing. Whether it was taking a dip in grandma’s pool, schmoozing her way into sleeping on the comfiest bed, or sneaking out to hunt animals or visit friends. Xena was fearless and no one could stop her from doing what she wanted to do. Circling back to my earlier question: I think it is both. I think people choose dogs who remind them of themselves and I also think that you grow with your dog over the years and your complexion becomes a canvas of your shared experiences. Xena and I have been through a lot together. We lived the college party life when we were young. We got thrown out together and lived on couches with nothing but a duffle bag to our names. And Xena has made it through with me to finding my dream job, getting married and adding a little brother Husky named Zeus for her. Xena has been upbeat and full of life through it all. And she has showed me it doesn’t matter what you have. What matters is what you do with what you have.