To Catch a Brooklyn

I used to think Brooklyn was my less than smart dog.  But then I realized he is very smart, when he wants to be.

For example, if walking Brooklyn and you notice he is moving his head away from Mr. Mop and acting sly, it's because he has a hunk of roast beef in his mouth (yes, for some reason, there was a hunk of roast beef on the sidewalk).  You will remove said hunk o' beef and toss it under a nearby car.  Then, when getting the laundry ready (a few hours later), Brooklyn will run past you & the laundry cart and between the Engineer's legs, out the door and under the car with the roast beef. 

Yep, this dog has his moments.

So of course I had to grab some biscuits, run down the stairs and toss my laptop bag onto the sidewalk to retrieve my puppy.  

Note to self:  biscuits will not entice a dog when they have a hunk of roast beef in their mouth.  

There I am, on my hands and knees, trying to coax Brooklyn from underneath the Buick.  It hasn't rained in weeks so I don't want to think about the cleanliness of the New York City street that has seen it's share of garbage.

First, I took the 'authoritative' approach.  Nada.  He's got beef. 

Then I tried the 'loving' approach.  Nada.  He's got beef.

Finally I tried the tried and tested method of, "Okay, bye bye Brooklyn, see you later" and walked away.  This works at the park.  In the same way it does for three-year old children who won't get off the swings.  Nada.  He's got beef.

Meanwhile, cars are slowly driving past me.  One man asked if he could help me, another lady was concerned she would run over my toy dog.  I think it was the Fed Ex man who sat leering at my up-ended butt that really clinched the 'worst moment of the day' award.  

The Engineer is standing in our foyer with Mr. Mop who is going bananas.  He finally has the inspiration to get the 'last resort, always works' stick.  Otherwise known as my devil's costume pitch fork from last Halloween that we keep around for such occasions.

By this time, Brooklyn has eaten the beef and is merely running around under the car, wagging his tail having a whale of a time.  

With the stick, I manage to shoo Brooklyn from under the car (I swear, I have never done anything to him with this stick, but it instills the world of fear in him) but for a little legged dog, he sure can move fast. 

I tear down the sidewalk after him and manage to capture him between the tines of my pitch fork.  Of course he rolls on his back in surrender.

Yes, clearly we need to work on our recall skills.  But I don't think even the most obedient dog will respond when he is eating roast beef.  Heck, I barely respond to dinner conversation when roast beef is served.