Behind Bars

By Russell-the-Relentless

Guys, guys!! Russell here. I just had to get on the blog to tell you about my latest adventure. Although once you read this, you may no longer want to be associated with me! Truth be told, I’m a little ashamed of myself too. You see, a few weeks ago I was ARRESTED. I know! Unbelievable!!

It happened while I was staying with a friend while my people went to Mt Tremblant for a few days. I’m not sure why I wasn’t invited along for the trip. Maybe it has something to do with not being able to control my barking as the scenery whizzes by the car window? Who knows? Anyway, I was more than happy to be staying with my friend. I always have a great time at his place, returning home tired, muddy, and full of burrs.

This time was no different, and I want to make it clear that what happened was not my friend’s fault at all. I might lay a little of the blame at the small feet of the short guy, though. Once he could crawl, my people installed stairgates at the top and bottom of the stairs. I was quite intimidated by them at first, but as the short guy showed me recently, if you push hard, the gate catch gives way, allowing us to scamper off upstairs to play our favourite game of “drop the bouncy ball over the banister”. I’d also blame my people a bit too. How many times have they told me to “go on”, while the barricade was only slightly ajar, and I’m standing on the stairs blocking the way.

So not my friend’s fault at all. Except he has an outdoor gate, behind which he normally places a huge log to stop anyone from pushing it open. That day, though, he was preoccupied and forgot the log. He told me he’d be right out to play, but then went inside to make an “important” phone call. So, I did what I’ve learned to do with obstacles: I pushed. The gate gave way a little, so I pushed some more, and then with another couple of pushes I found myself out on his driveway.

Once I reached the road, I wasn’t sure what to do next. I confess, I hadn’t thought it through. So, I did what any well-bred spaniel would do; I used my nose. My nose is legendary. I can tell as soon as I walk down Burnside whether it is a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, as those are the days that Lucie, the Municipal worker, collects garbage along Riverside Drive and brings me a biscuit. I can smell her and the biscuit from 500 yards, easy. And, as you know, I once found a hockey puck in a snow bank for Benoit. You can read about it here.

There were lots of good sniffs out there, I can tell you. Looking back, I think I might have been trying to pick up my people’s scent. Perhaps I thought I could run to join them. Perhaps I imagined them being overjoyed to see me, promising to always take me everywhere with them in future. Whatever. It didn’t last long. There I was with my nose deep in the ditch when a car drew up beside me. What luck. Gillie is always telling me not to jump at cars, but the person in this car wound down the window and shouted “Hey”. So, I ignored Gillie’s voice in my head telling me “No” and raced over to the car and jumped up to stick my head through the window. Well, what a surprise, it was a policewoman!

I love the police in Wakefield; they wave to me most mornings as I trot through the village. But I didn’t recognize this person. No worries, I gave her a good licking anyway. I mean, who doesn’t love a woman in a uniform? She even got out of the police cruiser, so she could greet me properly. Actually, she had a bit of trouble handling me, only because I was so excited, I was doing 360s in the air. Next thing I knew, though, she had bribed me into the back seat of her car with biscuits.

The following bit of the story I really regret. The police lady managed to stop me from wriggling long enough to read the phone number off my collar. Then, she called Gillie to say she had found me on the road. The cell phone reception is bad in that part of the municipality, and the call dropped before she could tell Gillie I was OK. Gillie told me later that she thought I was dead, and that she was terrified. I feel really bad about that. The police lady and I had to drive a kilometre or so further on so that the she could call again. This time she confirmed I was alive and wriggling and in the back of her car.

Then the nice police lady drove me back to my friend’s house. My friend and I got an “official warning”, and I had to promise that I’d respect boundaries from now on. I’ve been told I was very lucky someone called the dog-catcher didn’t find me first. Apparently, then I would have been placed behind bars, and there would have been hell to pay and an almighty fine to get me out of jail.

When he heard about my adventure, the short guy was very jealous. I mean, he’s had lots of rides in planes, trains and ambulances, but he’s never had a ride in a police car.

Here I am with the short guy, plotting our next escap(ad)e

My people are very happy that I didn’t become what they called “a statistic”.

And me, well, I’m not so happy to have a criminal record. It now seems very unlikely I’ll ever be able to attain my dreams of becoming an important airport security dog like my Uncle Sid. But hey! I did get a ride in a police car. Not many spaniels can say the same!