Leaving the lead...

It's the moment when my body decides to detonate almost every counter productive reaction that's within it's power.  It starts with my face burning and my eyes watering.  Then, there's the shaking hands, so unsteady that I can't unclip the fastening.  Then, there's my heart, beating so fast that I think I'm going to faint.  Perhaps it's good that these things happen.  I suppose that it means I care about what I'm about to do.

To unclick or not to unclick that is the question...

Sometimes, I lean down to unclick the lead and then stand up again, thinking better of the situation.  Sometimes I unclick it and then think better of the idea and clip it back on 5 seconds later.  Sometimes, if I'm feeling brave the whole head collar comes off but, more often, the headcollar stays on.  I'm not sure how that's supposed to stop him running after things but it gives me, at the very least, some sense of control.

'It's not fair - you take me off then you make me sit!'

What's my worst fear?  Oddly, it's that he runs over to and bothers another dog and owner.  Caesar has a very lumbersome and clumsy approach to everything and would fly at other people and dogs as if he were a miniature poodle - I don't think he always realises that he weighs almost twenty-five kilograms.  This worry is slightly ironic given that the same often happens to me when I have him on the lead.  I haven't got enough fingers to count the amount of times I've ended up wrapped up with Caesar screaming because someone else has let their dog bother us.  Or had to drag him backwards down a path to get away from the dog that is trying to sniff him.

Has anxiety made me too protective and controlling?  Or am I simply doing my duty as a responsible owner?  Perhaps I'll never know where the line lies.

Woohooooo!!!

My space!

Have you got somewhere special that you like to go when everything is going wrong or when everything is going right?  A place where you can sit and cry or scream.  A place that you can share with the ones you love and hide from the ones you don't  A place that means something to you?

I did.  It was a little car park that overlooked the sea.  I spent many a happy teenage afternoon and evening there when life had got too much or when it was peaking at just enough. When luck had afforded me a car and an ounce of freedom with which I knew not what to do.  I later found that this wonderful location was a well-known dogging site (and not of the canine variety either).  So, I lost my special place and have never found a new one until recently.

A bit windy is it Dumbo?

Walks are stressful.  There's no point denying it.  I would love to say "let's have a relaxing walk with Caesar."  but thus far, those words have never passed my lips.  The reason for this is because nothing about Caesar is relaxing.  He runs too fast and too far.  He tugs and pulls and screeches and screams.  He picks things of unknown origin from the ground and eats them.  And, at most, walks are...interesting.

Looks like the lead is about to fly away!

When I was knee high to a grass-hopper, which wasn't too long ago (or perhaps it was depending if we're talking dog years or human ones), my dad used to go fishing.  I remember some of our excursions.  They usually involved me dressing in a LOT of very warm clothes and then waiting for an hour in the cold, crying because it was too cold and asking to go home.  Then, usually, sitting in the car with a packet of sweets.  Dad didn't take me fishing often - I wonder why?  Anyhow, back in the day of sea fishing, sweets, waders and flat fish, dad used to take me to somewhere he called 'the gare'.  It was silent and sandy and untarnished by tourists, buckets, spades and donkeys.  I was determined to take Caesar there one day.  Unfortunately, I couldn't find how to get to it, aside for walking down the beach for hours.

Poor old Caesar - once he has freedom,
he doesn't know what to do except for come back!
Video link for phone users:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4vccJ3UZmI&feature=youtu.be

Luckily for me, when we met Sharon (one of Caesar's rescuers) on Saturday, she showed us the way.  It was just the way I remembered it...deserted!

Nothing for miles - my sort of place!