Many think of the many, many times that Digby Pancake put forth his best escaping skills. From the trek thru the Florida woods (chasing after a wild pig!) to the campground Houdini acts, Digby was a pro at getting out of any harness. But Brickle? Not many know his love of being chased.

When we adopted Brickle from the shelter, he was around six months old. His brindle, tiger colors also symbolized a wild side. One minute, he would appear calm, almost asleep like a tiger in the grass. 

The next minute, he would jump up with the force of a kangaroo and be gone… while you were chasing him. This happened one morning as I walked with him thru the streets of that Florida place. I actually wasn’t used to “walking” a dog. All the dogs I had had in my life up until then roamed free on our property or at my grandparents’ house. At six months old, Brickle was a challenge. Pulling and zoomies every five minutes. Add to this a subdivision packed with houses and traffic, and a retractable leash that decided to break with the force of Brickle the tiger upon it. 

As Brickle decided to do yet another one of his tiger maneuvers and try to bite my butt, the leash snapped and so did Brickle. He took this opportunity to run thru yards with kids yelling “tiger”! He ran up to front doors, trying to get in. And then, he decided to run thru a construction site with fresh, poured concrete and a crowd of workers standing in shock, looking at this crazy dog tiger thing with a screaming person and broken leash. Did they try to help? No. They ran. Apparently, Brickle struck fear in the hearts of many that day. He paused to take a breath. And I pleaded with one of them, just one, to grab him, as I assured him he was “fine”. No one believed me, apparently, and I had to think quick. I threw myself like a cannonball forward with one swift move that left an imprint of my body and face in that concrete. 

Sometimes, a situation is so unbelievable, there are no words to apologize for it. I didn’t try. I picked up Brickle, that broken leash and ran. Ran away. But I didn’t get far, because Brickle was heavy. Now I had no leash. And a mile and a half to walk home.

What did I do? Obviously, I had to carry him. What did I care? I had hair full of concrete and a dog that now decided this in fact was great. He went limp. Heavy. And made himself as much of a nuisance as possible. As I carried him down his road, someone pulled over and stopped. They rolled down their window reluctantly. “Is everything ok with your dog?”, they said. I had no words. They moved along, every now and then glancing in their rear view mirror.

It took a long time to get home that day, but not long for me to throw away that leash. From that day on, Brickle’s love of running away while first biting my butt never stopped. And the fear he struck in many never stopped either.

Brickle loved a chase. Brickle loved to surprise. And friends, he really loved to scare people. The love of a chase was in his heart. And as much as I can try and chase the love we had, until I see him again, that just isn’t possible.

–Girl Person

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