too much freedom

Zacchi loves to run. He is incredibly fast. He absolutely loves to run full speed along our road. And, sometimes, when it seems quiet, I let him. Irresponsible I know, but how can I deny him the pleasure he gets when he almost flies? But lately, he has been taking advantage of the freedom, not coming back when I call him, not wanting to come down to the enclosed garden. Today he escaped early when I went to check on my gas, and ran, ran, ran. He came back, an hour later, but not until he had worried half the village. Later, when walking, I gave him a little freedom. He was good for about 500 metres. Then he realised we were heading for home. He took the high road.

It's OK to worry me, Zacchi, but it's not OK to worry the neighbours. So now he is back on the leash. If only he had come when he was called, he could have freedom every day. For now, he is back under control. Bit of a bind for both of us really.

It made me think a bit about responsibility, freedom of choice, all that serious stuff. There is no "one-size-fits-all" prescription for that. Some of those choices affect us for a life time. Others make hardly a ripple. What is right for one is not right for another. I suppose the thing is to make sure there are no real regrets in our lives, and look for that positive future.

So Zacchi, as I don't want any regrets, don't want you run over, or frightening the neighbours as you fly like a speeding bullet close to their cars, I am going to take away your freedom, clip your wings. You didn't know it, but the choice was yours.