I wanted to strangle Fate on our walk to the lake today, the only thing that saved her was imagining the e-mail I would get when I wrote about it. I pride myself on my training skills, and the great thing about a dog like Fate is that she will keep me humble and remind me not to get lazy or careless. She is a lot of dog, and I messed up today. Rule number ten in dog training: don’t get cocky.

Fate, I should say, is , a great dog, a spirit dog. She has explosive energy and drive, it is only recently that she ever permitted herself – or us – a nap in daylight. Border collie puppies are like portable nuclear reactors, they don’t run down on their own. If you are not patient, you can ruin them, and they can ruin you.

We went to the lake today. Generally, my dogs, including Fate, walk off leash. They don’t run a way, they lie down and sit when there is traffic, they respond beautifully to most commands. On the path to the lake, I always let them off leash, I can see a mile down the road if there are people or dogs coming, and then I leash Fate. Red never needs to be leashed, you could drop a bear in front of him and he wouldn’t charge it or run off.

Fate, I am learning is another story, at least without a lot more training. We got to the water and I didn’t see an older woman sitting up on a hill very peacefully in a crossed-leg yoga position meditating in the afternoon sun by herself about 100 yards away. I’d guess she was in her late 70’s or early 80’s, she was quite at peace up there.

Fate did see her and, tail wagging, rocketed off and up the hill, tail wagging, uncharacteristically ignoring my commands to stop, come or lie down. She was wet from romping in the water, and she landed with a big muddy splash right in the poor woman’s lap. She was, needless to say, startled and yelped in surprise, and then Fate climbed up her chest and showered her face with kisses, causing her to fall down flat on her back.

Mortified, I raced over, shouting at Fate to lie down, which she eventually did, not before jumping up for another round of wiggling and licks. I was apoplectic now, shouting and grabbing at her. The woman, luckily, is a great dog and animal lover, she was charmed by Fate and had no trouble grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and forcing her to sit down. I slobbered apologies, offered to go get a towel, pay for any cleaning, prostate myself in the water.

She laughed. “She’s just a cute little puppy,” she said. Well, yes.

I felt badly, I was abashed and embarrassed. And pissed. I retreated back up the road, and as I did, Fate saw another person, a jogger with a full head of white hair, coming towards us, perhaps a quarter of a mile away.  She took off, tail wagging again, exploding with her joy of discovery and rushed up to the surprised man, darting between his legs, and nearly causing  him to topple over trying to avoid her.

It turns out he is a famous painter, also a dog lover, and was also charmed and delighted by Fate. “I’ve read your books,” he laughed, running off. “Good luck!” And then, Fate took off after him, tried to herd him off of the path before my outraged shrieks got her to lie down.

The painter was laughing, but I was not. It was funny, in a sense, but not funny. Either of those people could have been injured, upset, angry.  I am a big believer in being responsible for my dogs. It should never have happened. Fate completely loses control when she sees people sometimes, she loves them all. She is not ready to be off leash any place where there are people, and won’t be. I have to re-double my training and bring her to places where there are  people so I can socialize her property.

Where I live, there are never any people where we walk, we are often in the woods or on remote roads. So this was new. My friend Scott called on my cell phone and I explained why I was shouting at the dog. “That dog will either kill you or keep you young,” he said. We’ll find out which.

When I saw Maria, I told her what Fate had done on the walk. “Well,” she said, without skipping a beat, withdrawing into her studio, “you better do some work with your dog.”

I have to say I’ve never had a dog do that before, not ever in all the years I have had dogs. A wake-up call, a different thing for me, I will put the training cap on and deal with it. Fate is a great dog, and I am happy she loves people so much. Maybe we can help her like them a little less.

On the way home from the lake, Fate put her head on my shoulder and leaned over and gave me a kiss on my cheek. I melted like some cheese on a hot skillet.

I’m glad I didn’t strangle Fate. Maria would have killed me, Karen Thompson would never speak to me again, and I’d be answering e-mail and outraged Facebook posts for the rest of my life.