Greta

One of my favourite memories of Greta the Dachshund involves a farm, a fence and a hill. 
 
There is a small stone cottage on a boutique farm in the hills of the Australian Capital Territory. It has rose bushes out the front, a broad view from the back door and one of those very long and very straight driveways. Greta, Evie, Dani and I walked slowly up this driveway one afternoon years ago.
 

There are large Oak trees framing both sides of the driveway from the street all the way down to the cottage. Their leaves touch above dirt wheel ruts and create an extended tunnel of shade and dancing light. Patchy grass grows in the very middle and on the very edges – green and brown stripes wiggle up the gentle hill in front of us. 

The fence on either side seems designed to keep the infrequent cows and the infrequent cars on their respective sides. There are timber posts laced together by four or five lines of straight, taught wire. Beyond are lumpy grass fields and a blue sky. 

Evie sniffs every tree and half the dirt on the way up the hill. We see a cow, it raises a laconic head briefly. Greta trots in front of me, then behind me. She is watching all the time. I think she needs to know that the whole pack is together. She is also constantly scanning for danger, a threat like a toddler or a balloon.  

The sounds are of leaves, peace and shoes on dirt. 

Suddenly from behind me on the right I hear a loud twang like a giant guitar string vigorously plucked. As I snap around I can see it was Greta’s spine on the bottom fence wire which made the sound. She is 20 metres beyond the fence and at full pace. Her small body glides for a moment while her front and hind legs extend to their full before she contacts the field and coils vigorously. This is not a run, she is at a maximum sprint – silent and determined, at the height of her dachshund athleticism. The rabbit in front of her moves with the same primal intensity. 

Within seconds Greta is 70 metres away and chasing up a slight rise. The rabbit crests the hill and disappears as Greta follows with no hesitation. I look around in the stillness that follows. Should I jump the fence? How deep are rabbit burrows? 

I clip Evie back onto her lead and wait. Blue sky meets green grass in a wobbly line along the horizon. A distant cow chomps and turns around. 

Then a splash of brown breaks back into our view. Greta surges over the hill and returns at a familiar maximum velocity. Streaking with intent away from the place she had just exploded into. She went away with instinctual passion, she returned with uncertainty and terror. A flaming dragon on the way out and a tiny couch hound on the way back. “I’ve made a terrible mistake” I read clearly in her body language.  

She whips under the low fence wire and I clip her lead back on. I look at Greta, she looks at me. Evie pulls to sniff another tuft. We continue walking slowly under the trees. Life returns to normal. 

 
So long sweet little dragon dog, you’re over the hill now. Go for it. 
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