On leashes

One night this week, Bear needed to go out at midnight. The wind roared and angry gusts crashed through the trees as a warm front pushed our way. We were exhausted both from the baby and from being miserably sick for a few days. We decided that the chickens which Bear loved so much were most likely safe in their coops, so I opened the door and motioned Bear out. It was the first time in over a year that we had given him the opportunity to run free.

He pranced out into the snow, head and tail held high. He pranced a little way in one direction, then the other. As I headed back upstairs we started to have misgivings about giving him the opportunity to go on walkabout. He could easily disappear for hours and we’d start to worry about the chickens being let out in the morning. But out the window we could see Bear still standing in the porch light.

I went back and opened the door, shaking a box of treats. Bear happily trotted inside. I leashed him and we all headed out into the maelstrom.