Autumn 1985 shut the door in the face of an Indian Summer and laid its own dour cloak across the countryside. A low pall of rain heavy cloud lingered overhead day after day, all was gloomy and chill. Our walks led us along green lanes and down winding paths beside fields sadden by the end of harvest. Plough shares turned the sod and the rich earth smell flowed o'er the land. Sollee was now a mature dog of three and, generally, he was a pleasure to walk, though he still could not be allowed to run free. We enjoyed our walks and because I felt so bad about the loss of his freedom we often extended our gait into a mile eating jog. It was on such a pleasant outing, our pace set to maximise the distance we could travel in the hour allowed, that Sollee took advantage of my preoccupation with watching the path ahead and slipped his check collar.
Just how he managed it I'm still not sure, he seemed to suddenly pull back against the lead and shaking his head he jinxed to one side ... and he was free and running!
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I felt pretty useless; no matter what my tone of voice he would not respond to his name. I knew it was no use pursuing him, my short legs were no match for his spring loaded paws. So I paused to take stock. Watching him hunting his way along a wood side I realised that, should he maintain his current line, he was heading straight for the main road. I began retracing our steps in the hope of reaching the road in time to intercept him. If he entered the wood then he would have a good head start and I would have a damned hard job finding him, but at least under the trees he was safe from traffic.
Five minutes later, close by the last house in the village, where the pavement ended, I halted as I saw my dog emerge onto the verge some five or six hundred yards away. He had moved quicker than I thought to reach that point. Watching him I recognised from his demeanor that he seemed to be suddenly rather unsure of his surroundings; nose raised he appeared to be seeking something familiar, sight or scent.... Judging by this behaviour it was apparent that his wild mood had passed and I hoped that maybe now he would acknowledge my commands. But would he come straight to me along the verge?
Walking at a steady, regular pace I began to move toward him and started to call him, calmly but firmly. Thankfully it was a Tuesday afternoon and traffic was pretty slack, but what vehicles there were seemed to be taking advantage of the open road and they were travelling fast. Sollee turned at the sound of my voice and after a moments hesitation he set off towards me. Several lorries had already thundered by whilst I assessed the situation but Sollee had paid them no heed; he had always been good in traffic and nothing had ever stressed him. Maybe his non-existent fear of traffic was what led him to leave the verge and trot onto the smooth tarmac. Who knows what went on his head? Whatever the reason, that is what he did, and my heart leapt into my throat.
Within seconds Sollee was trotting happily toward me following the white centre line on the crown of the road!
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Two cars were approaching him from the rear and I could hear what sounded like a heavy lorry coming up behind me. He was going to be caught between them, cars on his left, lorry on his right.
Maybe I wasn't as close to death as it seemed at the time because I never saw any of my life pass before my eyes, only a vision of Sollee flinching slightly as the first car whizzed by him. The driver of the second car hit his horn and mouthed something not very pleasant as he shot by at the precise moment I jumped into the middle of the road and the lorry laid rubber as its driver put his foot down hard on the brakes.
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It was the only time I ever felt like thrashing a dog. My hands were shaking as I slipped the check collar over his head and I ignored the wagging tail and big brown eyes, I didn't want to know him. We were both still alive, but how and why I didn't know. Tight lipped and silent I led him home.
Later, when we set off on our evening walk, Sollee wore two collars and two leads ... let the little swine escape from that!
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To be fair, his 'selective deafness' off lead was Sollee's only fault. He may never have been a candidate for an Obedience championship but then he never created havoc or wrecked our home (after the twenty minutes in the bathroom). In truth, he was a delight to live with: loving, intelligent and the greatest canine clown I've ever had the joy to know. He was a master of comedy ... especially 'toilet humour' as I soon shall tell.
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Photos: Top: The road near where Sollee walked the line.
Bottom: Sollee age three with two collars and leads.
