I have mentioned before that Ziva, our Black Mouth Cur, is very smart. I've lived with and loved smart dogs before, but she beats any dog I've known for having rational thought, problem solving, and just basic good sense. She has flaws for sure, but that brain of hers is admirable.
Today was unseasonably hot in Maine. I was feeling a little tired of it, so Chris put me in his car, turned the air conditioning to "stun," and off we went. I left the little dogs in the house and Ziva outside with a bowl of water and a bone to chew on. She had lots of shade, and in the event of a shower, there is a small sheltered roof over the door.
We decided to grab a quick supper while we were out, and on the way home realized there was a problem. Rain was coming, and not just a little shower. Thick black clouds darkened the sky, and lightning flashed. Chris stepped on the accelerator. He was worried knowing every window in the house was wide open and fans were blowing. I was worried about Ziva. The sky opened up and torrential rains made visibility tricky at best.
As we pulled into the driveway I expected to see Ziva there by the door, under the little roof. My heart sank when she wasn't there. I checked the yard. No dog. The rain was coming down hard and the wind whipping. All I could think was that she'd been spooked and jumped the fence, and was out there in the storm, wet and scared. There was nothing to do until the weather blew over a bit, so I began shutting windows and mopping up where rain had swept in.
It occurred to me that perhaps, just maybe, she had sought cover in the goat and pony shed. But that was a bit of a stretch.
Although Ziva is very good around the livestock, she is young and sometimes naughty, and I keep the gate between the yard and the pasture closed snugly to avoid temptation on her part. Sometimes goats and horses and poultry are fun to chase! Ziva has never once gone in the pasture uninvited and of her own accord.
After we had the windows shut and the fans off, Chris donned his rain jacket and went out to the shed. The rain had begun to let up and I was getting ready to walk the neighborhood looking for my poor dog. But here came Chris with one wet Cur slinking behind him. I was so glad to see her.
"Where WAS she?" I asked as I gave her a hug. "In the goat room," he replied.
For the first time in her life, Ziva had pushed the gate open and sought shelter in the best, safest and driest spot she could have possibly found. She was wet but safe. This is one clever dog.
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