In The Doghouse

We went for a walk this morning – a few minutes into the walk, I saw a man off in the distance. I have passed him many times when walking Scout and he never responds to my half-smile-to-a-passing-stranger nods. Today he came out of his house, crossed the road, and pitched a bowlful of what looked like large breadcrusts over the little wall into the park. We were far off; I really didn’t give it any more thought.

We neared the park, but were several yards away from the food, on the outside of the park wall, when Scout started really pulling. Clearly she smelled something, but I pulled back and we carried on. On the way back from our walk 50 minutes later, we were at the far end of that same park, quite a ways away. A dog she knows came running up, off leash, so I let Scout off leash so they could romp. She immediately took off. I didn’t panic; I assumed she was off to ‘do her business’. But she kept running. Then she jumped the creek. And headed for that pile of food. Now I panicked. I ran and got her and dragged her away but not before she had consumed several mouthfuls of what turned out to be some sort of cooked tomato fusilli with little white squares of something – cheese? chicken? I dunno.

Two things: (1) Scout is now being punished. Strongly. She is getting the worst punishment I can give her – I am not speaking to her or looking at her. I walked her home, I’ve filled her water dish, I dried her paws – all silently. I will do this for probably another hour or so – she does not like it one bit. The last time I did this to her, she had lifted a slice of pizza from my plate on the coffee table (she was 5). I didn’t speak to her or look at her for 3 hours that day – she’s never touched food on a table since. And (2) I’m now a little freaked out about that food. I had assumed from a distance that he was feeding the birds, but although I saw them fly around, none touched the food when we were there the first time. He watched me from his living room window as I chased, caught, and chastised her after eating the food, but he made no sign from his window, didn’t smile or nod or acknowledge us in any way. Who fires off a pasta dinner into the park? What else was in the food? I’m not looking at Scout right now, but I am watching her very closely.

Update: Scout is fine. She is remorseful, healthy, and (for the time-being) obedient. I’m still baffled though – such an odd thing to do. Maybe he doesn’t like Italian food?