Returning to the kitchen, I prepare their food. After about five minutes my ears perk up to the sound of…silence. After these years with huskies, one develops an intuition about husky behaviors…kind of an Early Warning System. Case in point: If there is no noise, huskies are into trouble. Silence permeating the yard means huskies are gone.  

Dropping everything, I rush out into the darkness and call for the dogs. No response. Nothing. No noise, no movement, no huskies. None at all.

I call again and after a very long and excruciating interval, one dog shows up. It’s not even a husky; it’s Megan, the Aussie Shepherd. A rustling in the dark then produces three more huskies, Missy, Nicolai and Lobo, dogs who are more or less content to remain in the yard.

Since these three came from the far side of the garage, I quickly track in that direction to find the attraction. Calling the missing dogs as I go, I hear a scuffling and suddenly two more appear:

Taz and Chula. Both are extremely excited; a telltale sign that escape is close at hand for someone. And that someone is probably Banzai, the only husky still missing. All the dogs except Taz are hustled into the house and the sliding door is slammed into place. Ignoring the fact that seven dishes of dog food on the counter will be quickly distributed across the kitchen floor and robustly consumed by five dogs, my attention turns toward the single missing dog.

Stumbling about in the back of the yard, behind the garage, in the dark, with lumber and other unseen materials hampering my progress, I continue to call for Banzai to no avail. How did he get out? I try to focus on the bottom of the fence when Taz suddenly bolts right by me, charging straight into the fence that separates my yard the from the neighbors…and doesn’t even break stride as he flies right through.

In astonishment, I gape as he zooms and circles freely in the neighbor’s yard, then proudly rockets back into the home turf, kicking up dirt on me as he whizzes past. It is only then that the darkness of the yard and mind both lighten up enough to see the massive gaping hole in the fence large enough to ride a bicycle through.

Although stunned by the fact that the fence that once was there, no longer is, my eyes quickly focus on the far end of the yard where, in contrast to the darkness about it, a high fluffy tail wags intently. Attached to this fluffy tail, angled sharply down at about 45 degrees is a husky, furiously excavating a hole at the underside of the neighbor’s gate.

Calling to him results in a reaction similar to dousing a small fire with kerosene. He knows his plot has been discovered and he must complete his escape before I can cross the yard to reach him.

The impulse strikes me as strongly as Banzai’s inclination spurs him. The urge to bolt into the yard, run for the gate and grab the dog pumps the adrenaline thoroughly through me. Even my hair is pumped up.

Yet, a momentary lapse into logic, that rare and largely unexplored territory between my ears, suddenly sends me in another direction. A secondary element triggers a wondrous and unique faculty, heretofore quite a mystery to me. It is a peculiar tool called "memory." This memory thing suddenly paints a brilliant picture of an almost identical situation from the day before, starring Chula in the title role of master escape artist. The entire tale whirred before me. And now that I knew the solution and probable ending, I raced for the house, with Taz in hot pursuit.

Taz beat me by a second and planted himself on the porch steps. Slamming the sliding door open, Taz yelps in surprise as I scoop him up and rush us both through the opening. Following him through, I quickly turn and close the door in swift succession. The river of huskies swirling about the kitchen has no effect on slowing me as I cross through. My fast pace opens, passes into the dining room and closes the "barricade" – the five foot tall slab of heavy marine plywood, sporting heavy hinges, sliding bolts and hasps with S-hooks to hold it in place (yes, the huskies can open latches).

In a dead run, I reach the front door, fling it open, bolt down the front steps and hurdle the low front gate in a burst of speed and deja vu…

…arriving precisely at the same moment Banzai digs just enough to squeeze under the neighbor’s gate. Getting to his feet, Banzai scoots off and right into my waiting arms. Both of us are breathing heavily from our exertions, he from furiously digging, me from furiously hustling. Bundling him quickly back into the house, I slam the door. SAFE! None got away…this time.

Funny, even though Banzai and I simply jostled momentarily, we both seem to harbor a vast sense of accomplishment. Banzai savors that moment of triumph in escaping, albeit for but a few seconds. I bask in the surprise presence of mind that sent me barreling to intercept Banzai in his planned trajectory rather than follow common rote patterns and the possibility of a long, laborious night of tracking after him in the urban jungle.

How shall I celebrate? I think I shall commemorate the occasion with a cinder block, some lumber, plywood, nails and a hammer. Yes, there is a hole to fill under the neighbor’s gate, and a huge gap in the back fence. To skew a popular line: I’ll fix first and ask questions later.

Tomorrow, the daylight will undoubtedly reveal some new affairs to address and new adventures to undertake.

Life with huskies is certainly exciting. A quick glance at my watch; Mickey’s hands and countenance smilingly note that a mere 12 minutes has elapsed since this episode began.

Both time…and I…fly when huskies are having fun.

"We never do anything well till we cease to think about the manner of doing it."
-- William Hazlitt (1778-1830)

Taz Adventures © Scott Ringwelski
All Rights Reserved Used by Permission
Correspondence: ColonelTAZ@yahoo.com