Mud's Story | Part 1

It rained so hard in November of 2020 even the septic was flooded. The first sign of the rain slowing, I threw the three days of trash in the back of the truck, and Dirt and I headed to the grocery store. Rushing water washed out the logging road, but no four-wheel-drive was needed.  Dirt and I drive everything like we stole it.

The windows were so fogged we had to wait two minutes to regulate the temperature before turning right onto Good Hope Road. Just as all four tires hit the pavement, a small golden-colored critter crossed both lanes a few hundred yards ahead. The way it strolled across the street let us know it was a dog, but something about it seemed different. It looked like a full-grown small dog or a large dog not fully grown.

We slowly drove down to the place we last saw it cross.  I rolled down my window and scanned the roadside bushes and small saplings.

“It’s a dang puppy!” I said hastily as Dirt hopped on the console to get a better view of the little fella.

“Hey, animal,” I called to him, “what’re you doing?”

Under a small, half-dead pine tree, ten feet from the pavement, a golden, black-masked puppy looked at me with his tail lightly wagging.

As soon as I opened my door, he started trotting towards us. Dirt tried to jump out and check him for weapons, but I ordered him to stand down. As soon the little guy saw Dirt, he hit the puppy brakes. He didn’t run away. He just didn't come any closer. Sometimes we want something so bad, we forget about all the risks.

I ignored him, walked to the other side of the truck, and asked Dirt if I could borrow one of his leashes. He growled with disapproval. I overruled, laughed, and threw it around my neck. His displeasure made me want to keep the little dude even more, if only for spite.

I walked to the back of the truck and opened up the tailgate, then turned my back to him and started walking away. Our first interaction needed to be without pressure. I needed him to come to me. On his terms. This also allowed the opportunity to provide him with a choice. Choices give us agency over our own decisions. One of the building blocks for a strong relationship. No person or animal likes being told what to do.

It may sound trivial to incorporate this level of psychology with a puppy, and had he been in real danger, of course, I would have stepped in, but the controlled variable was present (no traffic), I had the tools I needed, and the situation was ideally suited to allow our first interaction to be a mutually beneficial exchange of respect.

I didn't take ten feet before I could feel the little guy at my ankles. I opened up the leash into a lasso-type hole, and he stuck his head through it, and without him being aware, we were taking our first walk.

Once the leash was on him, I dropped it and let it drag as he followed. We made our way back to the tailgate. I reached down, picked him up, and placed him on the trash bags. He clanged to them like a sloth on a tree. I thought about asking him where he was from but decided it was probably not the right time to bring up a touchy subject.

I opened the truck to find Dirt barking, jumping, and doing circles in his seat. He did not approve.

As I gripped the steering wheel, I realized my hands were dry. Everything else was soaking wet, so why would my hands be dry? Then it occurred to me the only thing wet on the new-found puppy were his paws.

To be continued…