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I took George for a walk yesterday and chose a much shorter route than usual in the (vain) hope of avoiding an episode of Flat Basset. When it was time to turn toward home, of course and as usual, he balked. We were right across the street from the small neighborhood park, so I thought, okay, we'll take a turn in the park and maybe THEN he'll be ready to go home. At the very back corner, he stopped again and just stood there, staring through the fence like he was waiting for a revelation. None being forthcoming, I finally convinced him to head back toward the street. A few feet shy of the street, once more we stopped and he just stood. Refused to budge another inch. I know he was tired; I can tell by his eyes when he's tired. But we'd taken a shorter walk than usual and were still a good three blocks from home. So ... I pulled out the cell and called Hubby and asked him to come fetch us. As soon as George saw the truck coming down the street, he got all excited and waggy and barked and when Bill pulled up and I opened the truck door, George said, "Well, FINALLY my RIDE is here," but I had to lift him into the truck (when he's made up his mind to be served, that's what you gotta do -- even though on any other occasion he can get into the truck on his own). All the rest of the day, Bill made fun of him and threatened to take his Basset Union card away because "REAL bassets want to WALK." I told George the next walk we take, we're not even going out of sight of the house. We'll just wander up and down our street and in our yard (which is quite large as yards go in this part of town) so if I have to carry him home, it won't be very far. What made it even more embarrassing is a whole bunch of teenage boys were playing basketball in the park and probably got a huge kick out of this whole thing (and the argument George and I had with me begging him to "come ON" and him saying "I ain't budging!")