After Batman kicked Lex Luthor’s tail in Lego wars we decided to go for a walk. Grandpa likes to take Luke the Destructor up to the school where he can run off leash in the wooded area behind. It’s not an off leash area, but Grandpa is ever the “rules don’t apply to me” and “I’ve done this with my dogs for 30 years.”
Me nagging for weeks now to get Luke a professional trainer so we could at least have the benefits of a dog who would Sit, Stay, Come, and not jump had not yet produced any results. Luke is a pup and in my opinion needed a leash.
The four of us set off. Since it was Saturday morning near soccer fields there were lots of kids and cars. Paul kept Luke on the leash until we got past the populated areas and then unhooked him. We had a fun trek through trees, in small meadows and roaming around anything that smelled good to Luke before turning to head back.
As we approached the parking lot Paul was just about to leash Luke when Luke took off at a dead run for a young German Shepherd on a leash attached to a tall man. Paul yelled for Luke to come back. Luke hiked his tail as if to say “rules don’t apply to me” and kept running.
Paul walked quickly on ahead, still yelling “Luke!” I heard the man say loudly to Paul, “You need to restrain your dog” as I saw Luke meet up with the other dog and just about knock him over. “That dog needs to be on a leash,” the man said again, more sternly. Paul yelled out authoritatively, “I have a leash right here.” “Yes, and it’s not attached to your dog,” the man replied just as authoritatively.
They stood there, the other man is doing all the talking. Paul was silent as he put Luke on the leash. Liam and I arrived close enough to see that the man was wearing a uniform adorned with a pistol in a holster. That’s when I noticed the black suburban with the letters Travis County Sheriff’s K-9 Unit painted in brown. Uh oh.
I watched Paul continue to stand there, Luke now obediently by his side, while the man took out a pad and pen and began writing. Then he went into his vehicle. This did not look good.
Liam and I stayed at a distance, walking up and down ramps and over rocks. Liam finally got curious and wanted to know why Grandpa hadn’t returned. I told him the men were just talking.
Finally Paul walked back toward us, a temporarily humbled Luke walking sedately by his side on the leash. I wondered if my husband had just received a citation for not having his dog on a leash on public school grounds but I didn’t say anything. We walked toward the exit, feeling the man in the black suburban watching us. As we got close to the gate Paul said, “Luke almost ended up in the pokey.”
“Good thing neither of you ended up behind bars,” I retorted. “Liam and I have things to do and they don’t include bailing you guys out.” Paul laughed. Fortunately the sheriff had given him only a tongue lashing and stopped short of a ticket, probably after he checked Paul out on his computer and found him squeaky clean. The tongue lashing had about as much effect on Paul as his yelling did on Luke. But I didn’t miss my opportunity to remind him that it was time, past time, to get Luke into obedience class. He said nothing, but two days later he informed me he had enrolled Luke in a class.
A little fear of the pokey can be a good thing sometimes.