Who is your favorite outdoor buddy? I have a couple, but my most loyal and willing hiking companion has four legs and never tires; my dog. So, while visiting my daughter in Texas, I braved the challenge of taking Ry, her gallon-sized kelpie for a walk around the nearby park. What could go wrong, right? A small dog, a strong leash, an experienced dog owner and hiker…

It had rained hard the day before, and that morning presented a little leftover drizzle and mud puddles, but was otherwise temperate and inviting. I was not the only one enjoying the outside. There were kids jumping in puddles, parents gleeful at their antics, birds swooping in for a closer look, even a cat, unconcerned about wet paws or strange dogs.

We were about fifteen minutes into our lovely jaunt-about, when Ry noticed the oblivious cat. Kelpies are considered one of the smallest sheep dog breeds, and Ry has that inborn trait, but she was resisting temptation. I knelt down beside her, leash tight in my hands, reined in short. There was no way I was going to allow the little dog to get away or charge after the petite feline. Amazingly, the white and gray bundle of fluff casually made its way to about ten feet from where we were kneeling and holding our positions. But, the cat’s ignorance was testing Ry, so, siding up even closer, I pet and praised her self-constraint as she continued to watch, and not bolt. It was a proud moment – a moment short-lived.

As if in an altered state of being, I felt the leash tighten around my hand and the kelpie burst forward, lunging at the stupid cat, who wised up real quick and darted, not out of sight, but in a playful semi-circle that drove Ry to the brink. Having been warned that Ry would run if given the chance, I held on like a leech to a wound.

In the air, there was laughter and gasps, one of them mine, as I instantly found myself lying prone in the mud, being dragged several feet by my “cute” four-legged companion still attached to the other end of the tether.

Not sure what had just happened, I continued to lay there, stunned at my very public predicament. Stripped of all dignity, I graciously gathered my wits, and raised my wet muddied face from the ground. The cat was gone, but Ry was still there, looking at me with a tilt of her head. Then, laughing out loud, I rolled myself up from my resting place, brushed off the worst of it and continued on my way, thankful that Ry was still by my side.

My outdoor buddy shared more than a stroll with me that day, and she also taught me a very good lesson; a stroll with a kelpie, is not always a walk in the park, it can be a baptism of embarrassment.