The straight poop.

Yesterday afternoon, Penny and I, in setting out for the Y to work out, let Gunther out of the house to lock him in the back yard.  You know.  The little fellow has to walk about 20 feet from the back steps to the back yard gate.  Well, he ran away.

“Penny,” Gunther ran away,” I mumbled glumly.

Back outdoors, I saw G. trotting a couple houses away, head high, confident.  I cried, “Gunther!” [Whistle] “Here Gunther!”

Real teamwork.

Gunther seemed to pay no heed.  I entered the house where Penny advised me to get a treat and a leash and coax him.  I got a treat from the bag.

Over at the Christiansen’s house, Don and Gert’s daughter Carol was speaking with her husband, who was sitting in a car with the door open.

“Have you seen a small brown dog come trotting by?”

“How small a dog?” asked Carol.

 Mexican hairless

“Oh, about yay tall by yay long,” I answered with appropriate gesturing.

“Not that large, but I saw a much smaller dog.  One with an underbite,” said Carol, imitating an underbite with her mouth.  I thought she looked adorable.

“That would be Gunther!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, there he is,” she said, pointing.

Sure enough, Gunther was chasing a tiny brown dog.  A chihuahua, or perhaps a Mexican hairless, who flopped onto its tiny back in submission.  I held out my treat:  “Here, Gunther.  Gotcha!”  I scooped up G. and carried him home, locked him in the back yard.

Then Penny and I walked the three blocks to the Y.

This morning G. and I had the usual walk at 6.  Surprised to see a couple pairs of people out walking.  G’s poop was firm and cohesive.  Perfectly formed.

He sees rabbits in abundance, but doesn’t compulsively chase anymore.  I wonder if he thinks they are illusions.  Sometimes we walk rather close to them before they go hopping away, white tails bobbing.  Oh, G. turns his head to look, but is almost indifferent to their presence.  We walked past the place with the chihuahua, or Mexican hairless.  I don’t know my dog breeds.  Anyhow, a stuffed toy lay on the sidewalk.