You know how in “A Christmas Story” every time Ralphie says he wants a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas, he hears the same reply, “You’ll shoot your eye out”? It has been like that the last few weeks. Whenever I mentione Harry and I are going to try bikejoring, I hear the same response, “You’re going to kill yourself.”
But we did it. Before I go any further, I have to give the greatest compliments to Nooksack Racing, our specialized equipment supplier. The harness, line, and Bay-o-net all were just the best. Not too expensive, perfect for the job, with outstanding customer service. If you ever want to give this a try, be sure to contact them.
The day did not get off to an auspicious start. While getting rigged, our directeur sportif clipped to Harry’s wimpy round the neck collar. Harry, perhaps using knowledge acquired before joining the team, quickly assessed the situation, and determined that a few backward steps could possibly cast off all physical ties to the world of humans.
Perfect execution, resulting in Harry-heaven. Free run!
Dogs do have an uncanny ability to come really close to whomever they suspect—possibly on the basis of hearing a recent “Harry, come to me,” request—wants to end their freedom. But they never get quite close enough to risk actualization of capture. Luckily, a passer-by, unsuspected by Harry as an accomplice, was able after his bout of crazy running to grab his harness before the directeur sportif or I could. Ah, the power of precise verbal communication. Dogs, you should not left it out of your evolutionary development, perhaps.
Oh, my. It just occurred to me that perhaps the crazy full-out running softened up old Harry for the subsequent activities. Maybe, just maybe, in light of the numerous warnings... it even saved my life.
With that episode over and Harry reharnessed, one “Hike” is all it took. I had some concerns that Harry, with his life-defining propensity to chase cars, would try to loop behind me and chase the bike. But, that did not happen. This dog likes to run, and he likes to pull.
Sure, there were a few bobbles. Harry has yet to make a sufficient personal commitment to bikejoring to forgo some distractions off the trail. But, we quickly worked those out. “Straight ahead”. “Get up.” The biggest problem was me, out of shape, heading uphill. In the years I have not been riding, nothing has changed. You don’t notice a road goes uphill that much until you ride a bike up it. We were able to practice “Whoa” several times.
Harry was quick to get into a pulling gallop. Downhill we were able to go full-out and keep the line taut. Our dog got the exercise he needs beyond the lame activities of the recent past. And, once going, we did not need to worry about dealing with Harry’s issues around “Come” that have restricted some physical activities.
We ended by a run on a public roadway, as defined in the loosest sense. Actually, it was the gravel road infrequently used by those driving the ridge that defines the east side of the Hood River Valley. No vehicles encountered, only persisting, great enthusiasm.
It went well.
We did not kill ourselves.
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