15 minutes of freedom.

The gate was left open. It took all of 10 seconds for my hounds to notice and bolt. Instead of going to the left, which is the way we go when we take walks (on a leash) they went right, which takes them to a very busy 4 lane. Greyhounds don't know about cars and traffic - they know running.

As they made their way down the street they ignored the frantically barking dogs. I guess freedom was more important than olfactory satisfaction. My husband went after them on foot. I jumped in the van. The neighbors at the end of the street must have thought I was a stalker ... going slow up and down the street. I couldn't find the dogs or my husband. I drove out on the 4 lane and went about 50 yards, turned around and started back ... there they were, only 15 feet from the road. I pulled over without even considering the traffic. I was afraid they would run if they saw me, some dogs do that, but fortunately they came when I called.

When we got home my son asked if I disciplined the dogs. I explained that dogs think differently - that if I had disciplined them, they would connect my calling with something unpleasant and would learn to never come when they were called. Instead I praised them for coming. He seemed to catch the idea.

The first greyhound I had in the late 90's, (D.D. was her track name - I'm pretty sure it stood for Dumb Dog) also found the gate was left open. We didn't notice she was gone until after we had gathered scraps from our Thanksgiving dinner to give to her. I drove around for 2 hours and some people had seen her, but it was getting dark and D.D. was black. I finally came upon an apartment complex where she was sniffing around, but it was on the other side of a 2 lane. I saw headlights approaching and didn't want to call D.D. because I knew she'd come running. She saw me and came anyway. I ran into the road to pull her to the side because she'd stopped to do her happy dance, but she saw the headlights and froze like a deer. I couldn't budge her (she was 80 pounds, and stubborn as a mule) so I stood in front of her frantically waving my arms at the Pick-up truck. I was under a street light so I thought they would see me, but at the last second I was forced to step back on the center double line and the truck smacked D.D. throwing her 20 feet into the grass. That damn truck didn't even stop - he didn't even slow down! After the moron in the truck was passed, I stood in the middle of the road quite sure that D.D. was dead. I stood for what felt like eternity staring at the place she landed. There was movement, and she hobbled out of the grass and stumbled back to the apartments where I caught her.

The vet was astounded that she was alive, let alone unbroken. Not one rib. She was sore, but recovered fine.

It was an old flat front pick-up. That's what saved her. It hit her broadside and knocked her out of the way.

I'm quite certain that Baker & Bogie wouldn't have been so lucky had they made their way out on the 4 lane.

Phew.