The Trickster

Aha. A new trick to make me walk.

I’m afraid. Sorry, but that’s all there is to it. But, I can be tricked into forgetting my fear, and it doesn’t take our hero Cesar Milan to pull it off. Tonight, Joan tried to get me to take a walk, but I panicked as soon as we were outside the gate. The six-year-old girl who lives across the street watched me grind my butt into the street and refuse to move. She was laughing at Joan’s sorry attempts to make me walk and kept asking if she could help.

“Hey, Neighbor” (that’s what she and her mom call Joan), “Do you want me to help?”

“Oh, that’s okay,” said Joan, thinking there was no way a skinny little six-year-old could move a 125-pound dog.

Joan promised me a ride in the car, but I wouldn’t move.

She told me how much fun the walk would be, but I stayed anchored to the blacktop.

She predicted that I’d get all sorts of attention from the neighborhood kids, but I looked away and pretended not to hear.

Finally, Joan told me to go say hello to the little girl, who was still laughing at her. And I did.

The little girl took my leash and walked me on her lawn, up the steps to her porch—which scared the big boy who was sitting there; he didn’t realize how little interest I have in scaring people.

And I had so much fun, I forgot to be afraid. Joan took my leash and off we went on our walk. On the walk, lots of kids petted me and even some grownups smiled at me. What was I so worried about? And how did that little neighbor girl pull it off. That’s what Joan would like to know, but I’m not talking.

Best wishes, Juno