A few days ago the story of Petunia hit the airwaves; did you hear it? This is a true tale of an American Pit Bull lost for eight years who recently got herself found in rural Yuba County, California. The remarkable invention of the Microchip Implant assisted in her recovery, even if it did take all that time. Petunia ran from her home in Spotsylvania County, Virginia, and last week managed a return there. In case you’re wondering, this County sits somewhat North in Virginia and encompasses a portion of Fredericksburg. I take it, when Petunia began heading west she continued to follow that straight line. Dogs are unbelievable aren’t they when it comes to this type thing? I’m recalling the Husky, who traveled twelve miles, round trip, to the local PetSmart to steal a rawhide bone. We never, ever give them enough credit for their hidden intelligence. My husband tells a story of his beloved Sargent. As a child they moved from Rockaway, New Jersey to Hibernia, New Jersey; five miles away. Sargent, very familiar with Rockaway, considered that and no other place, home. One afternoon a neighbor from the old block called to advise, the dog lay in front of the old house, whining and crying. Why? He considered it home.
I can also recall a story of the canine with the earache. He knew that each time this happened his owners took him to a certain building. I don’t really think he understood the Veterinarian occupied that particular address. But, when the workers came in that morning, they found him waiting on the front porch. Because, he understood, every time he went through that door the pain went away. And finally, my all time favorite story. My mother’s baby sister always lived within blocks of us. In Brooklyn she lived three blocks away. When we moved to Queens she picked up her family, and wound up four streets away. Whenever my cousin or her brother got upset with their mother over anything they would run to my house. My mom would find out the problem, have a talk with them and send them back home. Some time during those years, my aunt decided to get a dog for the children. Then, one morning, my mother headed out for work, and who did she find sitting on the porch? Princess – my aunt’s dog. My mother talked out loud to herself. “For crying out loud, the kids are forever running here, now I have to deal with you too?”
Our dogs do the dumbest things, and then, they show this intelligence. It makes one wonder – are they thinking? Of course, some breeds show a higher intellect than others, but it still leaves a person to ponder the thought. This is why I say, they are as unintelligent as they are clever. Now, what has been nagging at me is this: Eight years. Did Petunia – every time she came upon someone who could rescue her – just take off? Never allowing anyone the chance to get close enough to help? Did she get herself adopted by some store proprietor/restaurant worker who provided meals each day, but that person never thought to take her to a Vet for scanning? Did she head directly to the west coast, sort of running through the colder, middle states? Did someone pick her up and drive her there? Then, when she did get herself rescued/found, did she decide – I’ve been out here long enough, it’s time to go home. So the very next person who came along, she allowed them to catch up to her. And, after all the inquiries, I’m still scratching my head – you want to know why? Petunia is the only one who knows, but is completely unable to answer any of these questions.
In any event, I’m so happy she got back to where she’s loved; to people who have hoped, for the longest time for her return. As I watched the reunion, Petunia wagged her tail as she enjoyed being fondled. Now, I know dogs run on scent, but eight years; do you really think she remembered or is it that her personality is a friendly one? If that’s the case, however, I would still like to believe they had something to do with that because dogs, I think, pick up on their owner’s personality. Lastly, since Petunia has aged a bit, I think I can liken her to a seasoned, and well-traveled adventurer – one who has earned the right to live out her golden years in front of a roaring fire or in the summer an air-conditioned sun room. Welcome home, pup.
Also, as I always do, I would ask that you scroll up to my FB Fan Page where I’d appreciate you clicking “like.” Thanks in advance.
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