Mazie ran away

Fight or flight may save us sometimes, but more often than not we need to not act like my dog

Mazie ran away.

Mazie is my 6-year-old Chihuahua-Terrier mix, rescued five years ago from a home with 62 other dogs. Yes, you read that correctly. Poor girl was only 17 months old and pregnant. More than anything, she was terrified.

This was the photo I saw online that made me want her to adopt her.

And this is what she did once we got home:

Real quickly she became my ride or die. My significant other. My best of all besties. She was a great mama (gave birth to 5!!) and then, at 8 weeks, she was ready for them to be gone and have me all to herself again.

Later, she and Tom became best buds. And, just like our other dogs (now all across the rainbow bridge), she loved riding in the truck with him.

see her sitting in the truck?

Which is why, when Tom said he was going to the store in the truck, I told him to take Mazie.

Tom is always good about parking away from other cars and giving her space. But Mazie is still skittish from her days in a hoarder house. REALLY skittish. Any bit of noise will make her head for the bedroom. In the car, though, usually she’ll stand with paws on the dash, watching for us to return.

Something must have scared her. Who knows what? What would make her jump through the window, opened only 1/3 of the way, into a large parking lot? And then run?

And run.

For two hours we drove up and down Main Street, in the alleys, along the bike path, and searched in the local preserve. I switched out my car for my bike to cover more ground deftly. Tom called the sheriff. Several sightings had her running south (which was good), but it also sounded like she had crossed the highway at least twice. Yes, Main Street is technically Highway 75. Which means traffic. Lots of traffic. Even for our small town.

Foremost on my mind was how terrified she must be. Every dog that barked, every motorcycle that revved, every stereo blasting as a car drove by, every big truck… all the things that make me jump and rattle my nerves… sweet mother, how was little 13-pound Mazie, one foot high, managing? And please dear God, don’t let her get hit.

Amazingly, she made it home with no noticeable trauma. Sure, it was only one mile. But this is the pup that sticks to us like Velcro. Also, the traffic…

Amidst the cuddles and snuggles and treats, I keep thinking about what would make her run. What makes any of us run. What makes us leave a safe place and traverse dangerous mountains and valleys (or a very busy Main Street, dodging dangers at every corner) just to get home?

It’s the classic Hero’s journey. Maybe she needed to test herself.

photo by Sam Andruszkiewicz

More likely, her mind played a trick on her. She thought she was in danger when she wasn’t. She ran from safety into the fire.

And now I keep thinking about the times when I’ve done this too. Fight or flight is an animal response. At my core – I’m convinced – I’m a dog. I’m just like Mazie. Except I’m not and I *should* know better.

a little girl in a big scary world - photo by Sam Andruszkiewicz

What about you? When’s the last time you thought you were in danger and ran, when it would have been better to take a deep breath and stay?

home again and all is okay