It was to be a quiet evening drive into the mountains on a Saturday evening with my two children and our dog, Bella. Just outside Ashland, Oregon the scenery changes dramatically -- it's the wilderness. With both children fast asleep in the back of the van, I pulled off the road to make a picture of Mt. McLaughlin popping out through a stand of fir trees. Within a second of opening the door, Bella jumps out and tears off as fast as her little legs will carry her. Although very cute, obedience does not come easily for Bella.
Dodging a few RVs and a logging truck, I started to chase her down Dead Indian Memorial Road (yes, that's really the name of the road) until I figured out that I was waisting my time.
Anyway, I had the kids in the van and couldn't really let them out of sight. After a few minutes standing there, I made a few pictures, got back behind the wheel, and slowly headed off in the direction where I thought she might be.
About a quarter a mile away, I pulled to stop, grabbed the dog lead, and stood near the center of the road. For some strange reason, this is the only dog I have ever known to actually come when she hears or sees a lead.
I banged one end of the leash on the road as I called her name. Within a minute I heard her racing back to the van, as happy as ever.