Gracie

"The only shame is to have none." -Blaine Pascal

"Dogs have boundless enthusiasm but no sense of shame." -Moby

Look, I'm not naming any names here.

But someone near and dear to me has been exercising some extremely poor judgment lately.

After two and a quarter years - yes, YEARS - of walking off leash like an angel:

trotting along sidewalks

stopping at crosswalks

coming to heel at my side whenever she's called

 

this certain someone has suddenly decided to break all the rules.

Which culminated this week in her dashing out into the street in front of not one but two moving cars.

One in each direction. She really pulled out all the stops.

Luckily, this unnamed individual chose to dart in front of the two safest drivers in the county, and both came to a quick stop. But I will not soon forget the complete heedlessness with which the red-headed perp dashed out into the street, wove around the two cars, and gleefully leaped into the brush on the far side of the opposite sidewalk.

In hot pursuit of what, you might ask.

And I'll tell you. Food trash.

Ugh. 

Once I carefully crossed the street myself, and hauled my trash-eating companion from the weeds, I issued a stern set of consequences for this behavior.

For the foreseeable future, my friend is on the short leash.

Oh sure, once we get onto the web of walkways and private lanes that wander behind the school, I'll allow for some freedom. Girl's gotta get her exercise or we both suffer.

But any time we are walking next to an actual street, she's clipped in and I'm clamping down. I'm cutting her literally no slack. 

I'd like to think my charge is embarrassed, remorseful, or at least well on the way to learning her lessons. But I don't think that's true. Honestly, she seems just as chuffed as ever to be out in the world even if she is at the end of twelve inches of leash.

I don't think she feels even a tiny tingle of shame. 

Just the same, I won't mention any names.