Going To The Dogs

I have to say, I'm becoming a curmudgeon. An old fart. A churl. A grumpy old guy. And I'm not even old. Yet.

Callie, our border collie, gets two walks a day. One in the morning, at sunrise, and another in the afternoon. The timing of the afternoon walk depends on the weather and when the sun sets. In the summer, the afternoon walk usually happens in the evening, after 6pm, since it doesn't get dark until after 10pm.

One of the guys that works in the vineyard, his dog Max, and Callie.

But in the winter, when it gets dark around 5pm, we need to get out there at around 4:30pm. These are still work hours, and the vineyard workers are out there doing their thing. We try to avoid them so that Callie doesn't jump all over them, but often we can't, and we stop and chat and they play a little with the dog. One of the guys has a dog named Max (short for Maxine, I think; she's a female). Max hangs out with her human all day while he prunes and burns vines.

Max and Callie have met and get along fine. Max stays pretty close to her master, so as we walk by, the two dogs greet and play a bit and then we go on. So far, so good.

Every once in a while, and not very often, we'll see a neighbor out with his or her dog. Same scenario. We meet and greet and then go our separate ways. This has been going on for four years, first with Collette and now with Callie.

Callie and Max.

But this past year there is some new neighbor somewhere in town - they don't live in our hamlet - that has been showing up in the vineyard in the afternoons on a regular basis. Her dog's name is Lily. Callie and Lily also get along well. Too well. They take off together. Lily bounds over to find Callie and then runs off with her.

Going our separate ways doesn't work. Lily will seek out Callie and then take off with her, and Callie goes. I think the lady brings Lily over to our vineyard just to find Callie. And this lady has absolutely nothing to say. She's boring. We have nothing to say to each other (I'm pretty boring, myself).

This week I nearly lost it. Lily, Max, and Callie all met at the same moment out among the vines. Callie is the smallest of the three, but she's the fastest, and being a border collie, she likes to herd the other dogs around. They were in doggy-dog heaven. I was in dog owner hell.

Off they went, bounding through dirt and mud. Out of sight. Toward the road where cars and trucks frequently speed by. And the three of us humans just stood there smiling, saying things like, "Isn't it nice that they all get along so well." And then I have to explain for the hundredth time that I speak to Callie in English because I'm an American and that she doesn't understand French commands so stop trying to talk to her because she doesn't get what you're saying.

Here's where the curmudgeonly part comes in. I CAN'T STAND THIS!

I want to walk in the vineyard alone with my dog, alone with my thoughts. I don't want to make small talk to boring people. Heck, I don't want to make small talk to interesting people, at least not in the vineyard. I don't want to hang out with other people and other people's dogs. If I wanted to be social, I would have stayed in the city and gone to dog parks and not moved to the country! Dammit.

Now, before you scold me, I know it's good for Callie to have doggy friends to run and play with. I know I should teach Callie some commands in French. I know I have some advice for you, too, if you'd like to hear it. But for now I'll just keep it to myself. ;)

There. I feel much better now.