She did it again!

As I was reflecting on days gone by, I happened to recall the Babe and her uncanny ability to climb trees. Earlier in this blog I wrote a hunt test tale entitled "She Climbs Trees" and as this is a second incident, I guess "She did it again" is an appropriate title. As I recall . . .

I was sitting on the steps that lead into the puppy yard, musing at my grass, (yes it came back) when Singer went under the azalea bush beside the steps. You might think of a small, compact flowering bush when the word "azalea" is mentioned, but this one was well over 12 feet tall and probably a good 8 feet wide, so it was more like a tree than a bush. It was lovely when it bloomed, all white.

She nosed her way to the trunk and started pushing on the limbs. I thought that she wanted to rub against the branches to "scratch" some hard to reach spots. But no, she was staring intently up into the branches.

Then she put her right, front paw on the branch followed by her left paw while moving her right paw further up to another branch. She then put a rear paw on the lowest branch as the other paws moved up. She was stretched like a gymnast reaching for the upper parallel bar, then drat, she fell.

Undaunted, she started over. Still looking strait up into the branches, she moved her first paw, second paw, third paw . . . and this time she got her fourth paw off the ground, then drat, she fell again.

Still undaunted she started over. On her third try she solidly got that fourth paw onto a branch, then continued her upward movement, one paw at a time. This was a circular climb as the bush had a trunk about 3" thick with close set branches. She continued to stretch for ?something? above, just out of reach of her nose.

All the while, as I marveled at her tenacity, I wondered what could possible be in the bush that she wanted so badly. I could not come up with anything positive, but plenty of negative thoughts plagued me so I decided it might be wise to intervene.

"SINGER! GET OUT OF THAT TREE !!!"

Gingerly, she reversed her paw action and down she came. I searched the bush for birds . . . nests . . . frightened or injured animals . . . snakes, but I found nothing. Nothing but a few dead leaves in the crook of a branch that appeared to be composting. Ah yes, the delicious smell of compost, that must have been it.

This incident took place around 1999 when Singer was two and a half years old. She was a hearty girl, full of spirit and the type that would never give up. Maybe that was why she was so special to me.

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