Today's Heart Attack

Merlot networks with the local, oblivious to her obvious size disadvantage.  As far as she's concerned, this may be her new backwoods playmate.  She's deaf to my voice, to squeaky toys, to the kids calling her name from the front door.

She actually follows this buck up the street and into the neighbor's yard, creeping as close as she can before the buck moves a few steps away, hoping to shake her off like a pesky fly.  I know she means no harm, and somehow, it seems the elk does, too.  In fact, the elk looks at her with something like amusement, affection even.  It's me, the lady hollering "Merlot" from across the street with traces of panic in her voice, that captures his attention.

When she realizes the elk is not going to play, Merlot walks past him to graze on goodies further into the yard.  There they stand in nonchalance--pup and buck--mocking my desperation (if only I had that photo).  I decide to make my way to the backside of the house from another street, and I catch Merlot's eye, which is when I take off running the opposite direction.  Dogs are powerless against running away: they're compelled to follow.  She sprints, nearly running off the ledge next to me in her haste to reach me.  And so I leash her, walk her back to the house, and shut the door in relief.

Just another day in Evergreen.