A few nights ago Aghra was being more obnoxious than her usual self. She would stand at the door and cry. I would take her for a long walk, and she would sniff everything within a five-block radius. We would get back in and no sooner had I hung up her leash than she was back at the front door whining to go out. We would go again, me foolishly assuming that in her excitement she must have "forgotten to go." Not wanting to be cruel, I would run her out again, with similar results. I finally just gave up. On the back porch of my apartment (ground level) I have a fairly long line tied to one of the rungs. I'll put her on it when I'm feeling lazy, and she can make her way over to the bushes if she has to. It is also handy for those snowy evening when she wants to lay belly up in the blizzard, and I want to wrap myself up in blankets and drink hot chocolate.

I also have her dog house out there. It's fairly useless where it is located, but I brought it up with me from Connecticut when I brought her up. It just sits on the "covered" porch, and serves primarily as a place for her to stash her stuff when she is inside and incapable of properly guarding it.

Well, this one evening I had her tied out there, with the sliding door open (since it was pretty mild). I was watching a little TV and relaxing after a long day. Out of nowhere came an enormous crash. Then another. Then another. There was banging and smashing and it sounded as if someone was throwing furniture at the side of my apartment. I ran out to see where Aghra was and didn't spot her at all. I figured I was going to have to get on the running shoes and start the chase when the dog house suddenly banged and shuffled over about two inches. I then saw the thick green cable (Aghra's line) leading into the house.

The house banged again, like were two bears wrestling inside, and shuffled back over another few inches (crashing against the railing). It banged a few more times before I finally yelled (a little worried) "Aghra!"

Silence.

Slowly, cautiously, a Husky head emerged. "Yes?" the look on her face said clearly.

I still don't know what the heck she was doing in there, but I coaxed her out and switched the clip from her line to her leash for the short (just a few feet) walk to the sliding doors. She was frantic to get at something just to the side of the door. We played tug-of-war for a second, with her the victor, and she snatched up her target and headed for inside. I managed to stop her before she got inside. She has a habit of bringing in all sorts of nasty treats - parts of squirrels, bird wings, stray toilet paper that had blown down the street, chewed gum, etc. I needed to inspect what this was before it was allowed to stain my carpet. She knew that I wanted to inspect her catch, and wasn't about to make it easy for me. She was looking straight ahead toward her destination (inside) and was taking every measure to avoid eye contact. It being dark, I couldn't make out what it was, so I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Finally, she looked up at me with a desperate expression: "Can I keep it? Please?"

It was a leaf. Just a plain old leaf from one of the trees out back. No special coloring or shape or texture. Yet, this leaf was obviously one of the most important discoveries she ever made, and it simply had to be added to her collection behind the wingback chair.

So, even though it had a little bit of mud on it, what the heck is one more stain on my once-perfect cream-colored carpet. "Yeah, you can keep the stupid leaf, you psychopath."

Almost to show her gratitude at my willingness to compromise, she has taken the leaf out every day since and placed it in the middle of the floor and then looked at me, as if to say "See, I still have the leaf!" And every night after I put her to bed, I have to put that stupid leaf back behind the chair.

Pete & Aghra (the Leafhunter)