Damn.

Madge got away again.

Last Saturday, I took Madge for a jaunt down the road in the golf cart. It's a great way to give her a good workout without having to tack up Maxine. It can be kinda tricky to watch the baby, steer the cart, and keep both hands on the rope for safety, but I've got it down pretty good. Or, so I thought.

We head down the road, away from the barn. Madge seemed perfectly content in an easy jog. Then, out of nowhere, she stopped and pulled back. The rope zipped through my gloved hand. I caught it at the last minute, jumped out of the cart, and gave her a firm swat on the butt to move her forward. After a quick adjustment, we set off again with her at a comfortable jog.

After we rounded the corner and were about 50 yards from the turnaround point, she pulled back again. Madge moved so quickly that, despite having both hands on the rope while driving, I wasn't able to keep a grip on the lead, and it slipped through my hands before I could bat an eyelash.

Madge skipped down the road about ten feet and then turned to face me. "Come, Madge," I chirped--fingers virtually crossed. She took a step toward me. Hopeful that she'd come to me, I stood calmly, waiting for her to bridge the distance. She turned toward the middle of the road and took a step--right onto her lead rope. Startled by the quick jerk to her nose, she turned and galloped around the corner toward the barn.

I stood--momentarily helpless. Then, I grabbed my cell phone and called my trainer back at the barn.

"Loose mule!" I hollered when she answered.

"Here she comes," she replied.

Hanging up the phone, I jumped in the golf cart and rounded the corner just in time to see her butt turn into the driveway and hightail it to the barn.

'ARGH!' I thought to myself. I knew this was bad. This was the second time she'd gotten away from me in a week and, as my trainer's mom says, three times and it becomes a habit.

"Looks like someone's going to get a few more miles put on," said my trainer, as she handed Madge's rope to me. "Madge deserves quite a workout for that!"

I turned the cart around and headed back toward the road, frustrated that I'd let this happen again. As Madge jogged next to the cart, I studied her movement, watching for any sign that would show she's up to no good. As I watched, I noticed that every time her gaze thoughtfully shifted to the left, she'd begin to slow up. That was the signal I was looking for.

Taking the wheel with my left hand, I shifted my seat so I could hang my right arm out the back of the cart. This placed my buggy whip directly behind her... behind. Each time her gaze drifted, I gave her a light tug on the rope and a firm tap on the withers.

The rest of the drive was successful, without one instance of her pulling back, yet I didn't go home content. I knew that while I'd won the battle, it was merely one battle in a much bigger war, and as much as I hate to admit it--even though there's no shame in it--I'm not yet experienced enough to win this war without the help of a five-star general.

I knew what had to be done.

"So, I found some money in my budget," I said to my trainer the next day. "I don't know what your schedule is, but would you be willing to take Madge in for training... tomorrow?"

"Yes," she exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'll write a check today," I smiled, knowing I'd just hired my five-star general.

Photo: Madge smiles for the camera.