There are not many days that go by that I don't have something to blog about, but I tend to ignore the urge to write because I've gone back to having a life. Ray is an old dog now and sleeps more than anything else. But still, there are stories that need to be told and this is one of them:
Last October as I was driving south to attend the Southeastern Animal Fiber Fair, I called Ray's foster mom, Amber. Amber tends to call me when she is on long drives and now I know why. It turns out this is an excellent way to kill time when on a long drive alone. As we were chatting, Amber excitedly told me that her niece had won a major marathon.
"She lives up in your area," said Amber naming the place in Northern Virginia in which we live.
"Really?" I replied. "Where?"
"I have no idea," said Amber.
After I returned home, the story of Amber's niece came to mind. I looked her up. She lives in our neighborhood and is on one of our less-traveled walking routes. (Now that he is an old dog Ray always picks our walking route: some days he still wants to go 2-3 miles, others he just wants an amble around the block.)
A couple of months later, Ray decided that this was the day to take the road less-traveled. We were crossing the street at an intersection with a cul-de-sac when Ray's nose shot straight up into the air. Usually he does this when a fox is nearby. I waited for the yelling to commence but instead, Ray's head whipped around. He made me look. A tall, thin woman in exercise togs had exited a car and was just entering a house. The door closed behind her. Ray hesitated a moment then continued on.
When we returned home, I looked up the address. It was the home of Amber's niece.
Last week, Ray took me on the same route. When we got to Amber's niece's house, Ray stopped dead and started to cross the lawn to the front door. I put the brake on the leash and pulled.
"We don't know her, Ray," I told the hound (he had never met her). "We can't just go up to a complete stranger's house because you smell a family resemblance."
Ray was insistent. I walked up to him, grabbed the handle on his harness and dragged him away. I compelled my dog to the sidewalk where he convinced me that really he just wanted to walk around the cul-de-sac, that he'd never been that way before, that really it was very interesting, and that he thought we really should go. So we did. As soon as we arrived opposite, Ray crossed the street back to Amber's niece's house. I hesitated briefly, thinking about it, then once again grabbed Ray by the handle and wrestled him down the street.
Ray was done. If he couldn't visit his foster mother's niece, he wanted to go home.
So, if anyone EVER had any question and needed proof that dogs can smell DNA, here it is, incontrovertible proof, served up on a platter, and provided by yours truly, Ray the Blind Dog.
|I can't believe you wouldn't let me visit |
my favorite person that I've never met.