Fozzie likes to fly. He runs so fast that his ears flow like wings, and his feet are mostly airborne, touching the ground for the tiniest fraction of a second. When he first came to live with us, he took flight once, and it took about fifteen minutes to get him back. After that, I put a GPS tracker on his collar, to keep track of him when he would go flying down the driveway, and explore the neighborhood.
Lately, he’s been pretty good about not trying to sprint down the driveway and cruise the neighborhood. I’ve been testing him, setting him down Beside the car, and asking him to go to the house. Once in a while, you can see that he gets that look in his eyes, and then he takes off, flying down the driveway. He’s been coming back, right away, though, just sprinting the 200 feet to the end of the driveway, barking his fanfare of freedom, and then galloping back triumphantly. Now I tell him, “Don’t go too far.” As long as he stays on the property, it seems like a good compromise, to allow him a fifteen second sprint. He really seems to enjoy it, and I love to see him galloping back to me. As long as he doesn’t abuse his privileges, I think he can keep taking the occasional short flight.
Lately, he’s been pretty good about not trying to sprint down the driveway and cruise the neighborhood. I’ve been testing him, setting him down Beside the car, and asking him to go to the house. Once in a while, you can see that he gets that look in his eyes, and then he takes off, flying down the driveway. He’s been coming back, right away, though, just sprinting the 200 feet to the end of the driveway, barking his fanfare of freedom, and then galloping back triumphantly. Now I tell him, “Don’t go too far.” As long as he stays on the property, it seems like a good compromise, to allow him a fifteen second sprint. He really seems to enjoy it, and I love to see him galloping back to me. As long as he doesn’t abuse his privileges, I think he can keep taking the occasional short flight.
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