See this fence. The golf course has erected this little fence along the cart path, for some project that they are doing.
So this morning, I let the dog out, and he goes down the cliff behind our house, out on to the golf course. He generally goes on the rough and then comes back up the cliff. I wasn't feeling well this morning, and it was stormy, so I didn't wait for him, and just left the back door open so he could come in when he was ready.
After a few minutes I hear a bark. Just one. It's not his crazy I-think-the-moon-is-an-alien-spaceship-about-to-land, angry and alarmed bark. It's his "open the door, please" arf. And I'm thinking, "What the heck, there are no doors on the golf course?!" (It's early.) So I go outside and call him. I whistle and call and he barks back, just once. I can tell he's in the middle of the golf course, but it is too dark to see him, and a gale is blowing that is making my eyes water and tears are running down my cheeks. I'm freezing, so I run inside and grab a jacket and a flashlight, and go back outside and call him again. I shine the flashlight and see two glowing orbs that are his eyes. I can hardly make out the rest of him, but I can tell he's just sitting there not moving, so obviously something is keeping him from coming in. So in the middle of the gale force winds I scramble down the boulders on the cliff side, using the flashlight to see. As I get closer I can see this little fence that somehow he's managed to cross, but he can't figure out how to get back over. So he laid down and called me. As I walked toward him, he doesn't move, and I wonder if he's tangled up in the string. But, no, he's just waiting. There he is, with all four legs tucked under him, belly on the ground, ears alert, smiling at me with his body, just waiting. He knew I would come.
The faith of a dog.
I lift the string and he slides under, and we go home.