Interlude: Riley Up North

you were afraid to bring me up north, too.

i was. you weren't entirely bonded with us. you were a strange puppy--weird. standoffish. you ran away from erik and me in como park when i'd had you for two months and i thought i'd never see you again. i had grave reservations about taking you off leash in the great north woods.

i was perfect.

that's not exactly true. you were perfect in the woods up the north shore, yes. you and boscoe had a great time chasing each other on the frozen Sundling Creek.

but you weren't perfect at Jay Cooke.

i wasn't?

no. don't you remember? we spent a week up north and you were perfect, and then we came back down the shore and stopped at guv and trish's house, and then, even though it was december, the weather was so mild we decided to do one more hike at Jay Cooke.

and just as the sun was starting to set, you took off. like a shot. like a rabbit. like a greyhound. you were gone. we called and called and called and walked as deep into the woods as we dared but it was getting dark and there was absolutely no sign of you. i was beside myself. doug said we were going to have to leave you there. to this day, i don't know if he was serious. (i don't think he was. i don't think he could leave a young dog behind--or any dog.)

and then, at the last possible second, as the sun was dipping below the horizon, i saw you. a tiny black dot far, far up the trail. moving fast, coming closer. i was so happy! i crouched down and held out my arms. Riley! i cried.

and you ran as fast as you could, straight toward me, and my arms were open wide, and ZOOOOOOOM you zoomed right past me down the trail. you didn't even pretend to slow down. you would have zoomed right past doug, too, but he managed to reach out and grab your collar. and we tossed you in the truck, and boscoe hopped in beside you, and we drove back to the cities in the dark.

i don't remember that. i remember being perfect.