Magnus and I met them as we walked along the river: a young boy of perhaps nine and a little Shiba Inu pup. The puppy looked like a tiny, chubby fox and was absolutely adorable. But I've met Shiba Inus before. I know that they are wily, even a little one of only 14 weeks. Therefore, I was not at all surprised that the dog seemed to be walking the boy rather than the other way around. As I passed them, the boy was trying to persuade the pup to come away from a flock of ducks on the river, and he was getting nowhere.
We walked on until the frozen waterfall and turned back before the steep hill. Suddenly I heard a yell and saw the boy waving his arms desperately. And on the path between us was one gleeful puppy, running as fast as his little legs could go, with the leash trailing behind. I knew he'd probably slip past me if I didn't do something radical. Before I had really thought it through, I found myself stretched out in the snow, clutching the leash between frantic fingers. And that was it, the wily puppy's bid for freedom was thoroughly thwarted.
Ha! I won! I could have been a soccer keeper, I kept telling Magnus, brushing snow out of my hair, and I felt pretty good about myself on my way home. At least until my knees started complaining. And my back. And my neck. And...hm. Perhaps it wasn't such a glorious victory after all.
But at least the boy was happy.
2 comments:
I want to snorgle that puppy like nobody's business. If we had a dog in the city, it would be a Shiba Inu, no question. I love those dogs, wiliness and all.
Yup, me too. It's because we're cat persons.
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