Ever since Delilah’s big adventure last year, she’s been kept on leash on our walks.

I hate this.  She enjoys running so much and she looks amazing while she’s doing it, yet I can’t take the chance.  She has proven time and time again that she can’t be trusted.

Remember my moment of weakness in March?

If our park was totally enclosed, I’d just let her go, but there are too many areas with access to neighborhoods and that is right where she goes.

The good news is I don’t have to worry about her running off into acres and acres of woods.  The bad news is that she is running off to people’s homes.  And I worry about people and how some of them might handle unwanted dogs.

What do you mean people don’t want me in their yards? I’m cute and I’m providing them with a yard service.  Free. Of. Charge.

In order to grant her a little bit of freedom, I’ve been working her on a new command.  Go check.

I have to be careful in what area I use this, but normally speaking it works like this.  Sampson gets his retriever on.  Explanation for those of you who don’t have retrievers….he stops, stands still and stares, before he charges off after his prey.  Delilah will stop and stare as well. I call her to me, un-clip her leash and say, “Go check!”  She darts off, thrashing through the trees, makes a wide sweeping circle and comes panting back to me.  The whole thing is over in less than a minute.

She gets her run on and I get peace of mind.  It’s a win-win situation.

Until it isn’t.

She did great when we encountered the deer. And she’s so happy when she runs and when she comes back and so I had another moment of weakness.  It was the day after the deer encounter and we had just stepped into the field.  I had her pointed in the right direction, un-clipped her and said, “Go check.”

She turned around and headed for the houses, with Sampson right behind her.

“Just remember, she’ll always come back,” Hubby said the last time she took off on me.  I tried to remain calm.  I called Sampson, thankful when he came back.  I walked across the field, calling for her, whistling, clapping my hands.  After a couple of minutes I decided I’d have to try to hike through the woods to the houses and see if I could find her.  It was raining and the field is rimmed with Poison Ivy, so I was looking for a clean spot to enter.

Sampson and I headed down a trail, but I couldn’t find a way in.  We turned around, searching the edges of the field, nothing.  I looked at my watch, 12 minutes had passed.  There was nothing else to do, I’d head back to the entrance and look for a way through down there, on my journey I’d see if I could spot her through the trees.  If I got to the car and hadn’t spotted her, we’d jump in and I’d drive over.

Who was I kidding, it’s spring in New England even though we had a late start, the trees are green and you just can’t see through trees!  Still I kept my eyes to the right, scanning, hoping.

I heard a noise and looked up, there she was running towards me.  I’m not sure if she’d given up and gone to the car or just finished her rounds and headed back.  She was gone at least 15 minutes and she’d used up her last chance.

I have no hope that she will ever go off-leash unless it’s in a fenced in area.

When do you decide it’s enough?  When do you stop giving chances?