It was around 1992, when I knew much less than I do today, but thought I knew even more than I think I do now. I had a very high energy Newfie. She was 140 pounds of pure-unadultrated-jack-russel-meets-border-collie-meets-chupukabra-on-speed energy. One night I drove from Los Angeles to Santa Fe and arrived at around 2:30 in the morning. Knowing that Tillie would not let me sleep after spending 14 hours in the truck, I took her to the nearby park for a quick game of fetch to take the edge off. On about the third throw, she ran up to a house adjacent to the park, in through their giant open pet door, and disappeared.
I stood there for what seemed like an eternity whispering as loudly as I could “TILLIE, COME!!” I wondered what lived there that needed the dog door that seemed to be about three feet across, and how it was going to feel about the Newfie that I am SURE jumped up on their bed, slobbered in their ears, pulled on their pillows, grabbed a snack, and then ran back out the doggie door where I hastily threw her into the truck and departed as quickly as I could. I have always wanted to go back someday and ask them about the strange nightmare they had one night. So, if you are reading this blog, and lived next to a park in Santa Fe in the nineties and were visited one night by a friendly hyperactive bear, I am sorry…
