What's the Timmy in the well?

About six months ago, I had just finished a yard and was putting the invoice on the door when the door opened and a booming voice bellows, "Braaaady get back here!" I froze for an instant because this was the first time I had been to this house and I became unfrozen when a giant yellow lab is leaping towards my head. "Brady get down, now!" It turns out that Brady is a very very friendly and playful dog who loves to greet everyone by jumping on them. The customer goes on to tell me all about how they moved here from Boston and all about how they are huge Patriots fans and all about how they named their dog after Tom Brady and all about how Brady is a really special dog and all about how to be careful to always keep the gate closed because Brady just loves to dart out and wander around the neighborhood and this is the part that gets me- he says,"Yeah, Brady here has a wanderlust about him."
Today I found that to be quite the understatement. I had the gate open to drag the hose through and saw his grinning self looking at me. He was sitting about twenty feet away from the gate just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me so I figured he's not gonna try anything radical today. I turned my attention for a split second and POOOF he dashes for the open gate. He stops right outside the gate just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me again. "Brady, get back in here," I plead to no avail. I slowly approach him and he's still just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me. I get to about three feet from him and POOOOF he dashes out through the front yard and down about three houses where he sits under a tree waiting for me to approach just kind of wagging his tail and smiling and as I get closer POOOOF there he goes again full speed through the neighborhood all the while taking time to look back at me and smile and wag his tail.
Logically I know that there is probably nothing to it, that it's just a damn dog getting out that I have to chase down and bring back. Realistically I should think it's just a damn dog wasting my time, ruining my day, and giving the neighbors something funny to see from their windows. But I swear that somehow this is something more. Like Lassie leading everyone to find Timmy in the well. Like it's me chasing myself. Like it's me trying to show myself something.
Brady leads me probably about a quarter mile through this neighborhood into the greenbelt where they have a walkway and an area with old railroad ties as a retaining wall covered with honeysuckle exploding in it's last days of the season. He goes into the shade of a cottonwood tree and sits down just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me. I approach him and he doesn't bolt or run. He just sits there and lets me walk up and sit next to him.
I pat my head and ask myself what is this all about? Why the chase? Are you running away from something or running to something? Is this about my wanderlust? Are you telling me to go home, pack up the everybody in the van, grab the rent money from the counter and just go?
My canine self is being real stubborn about just giving away the secrets, so I continue to pepper him with questions.
Is it the honeysuckle growing three weeks past season? Are you trying to show me something about resiliency? Am i supposed to hang on to something when logic would seem to show it impossible? Is this about God vs logic? Hmmm? Is it? Maybe it's taking time to appreciate beauty instead of being concerned with American efficiency? Should I blog about this? Would you like to be viewed in Laos? Is this about my writing? What should my next project be about? Hmm? Since your not answering, are you trying to show me that sometimes maybe we can't really know? That maybe it's better to question than to know? Hmm? Hmm? Are you trying to show me how crazy I truly am? That I'm talking to a dog as if somehow it is me? Are you saying I should embrace this kind of behavior?
At this point, I guess he got tired of me not hitting the mark and decided to help me along, so he rolls over on his back and I rub his belly. Maybe this is it huh? That you need your belly rubbed? That sometimes no matter how fiercely independent we may try to be, that ultimately we need people? That we can't tickle ourselves?
And just like that he got up and started trotting back to his yard.