night falls on richland

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closing day's eye

It was almost dark when we started the short walk back to the car. Frankie is small enough that she would be easy prey for a coyote, and I had managed to forget both a flashlight and a leash back at the car; so for me it was a tense journey back. But maybe I should have taken Frankie's nonchalance as a pretty good sign that there were no predators about.

She is just about as good a dog as I've ever had — sweet, affectionate, attentive, and devoted — but every dog is different, and every dog has a quirk, and Frankie's is that she won't come near you if she knows you're going to put her in a car. And of course when we arrived back at the car she did her usual number and kept right on walking. I wasn't paying enough attention to notice which way she went, and I had to spend several anxious minutes calling and hoping she would come back at least far enough so that I could spot her and nab her, which she eventually did.

I've tried to explain to her that it's better to suffer through a car ride than to try to hike the hundred miles back home, but you know how youngsters just refuse to listen to reason sometimes.