About This Blog

This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!

The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.

I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.


Showing posts with label Balls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Balls. Show all posts

Saturday, 19 March 2011

Ball Throwing For A Clever Pup!

My dog's activities in the park have been reported on numerous occasions and no doubt someone, right now, whilst reading this is saying 'Oh no! Not again'!

Sorry!

Our walks are always ball throwing walks as far as Sym is concerned.

I throw, Sym chases, catches then brings it back.

Sometimes!

I have determined that four commands come into play whilst playing ball.

"Fetch it"          - when he drops it out of reach off the path.
"Where is it?"   - to get his attentions when he drops it somewhere out of sight.
"Find it"           - when he drops it in the long grass or in a big puddle
"Gimme dat"    - when he doesn't drop his ball when it's time to go home

When I actually throw, or make to throw, the ball I don't say anything.  It would be a waste of time and effort because Sym would already be arcing his way to the point where he would like to receive it, whereupon he will go down on the ground in that typical "I'm ready! Go for it!" collie pose.

When the ball is thrown, and sometimes even before, he begins the chase. He has an amazing ability to calculate the balls flight path and be there waiting for it to bounce.  He also has the ability to look incredibly smug whilst chomping on his now captured prize!

The average round of 'throw & fetch' goes like this ...

Sym races into position. I throw the ball. Sym runs, jumps and catches. He starts to bring it to me ... but catches a scent and dashes off into the long grass only to emerge minutes later minus his ball.
Sym then runs into position, oblivious to the fact that he left his ball in the long grass.
In order to let him know that I can't find the ball, I shout "Where is it?" which grabs his attention and gets him running back to where he last saw it.

At this point he will look at me with his "You're kidding, right?" expression in the hope that he doesn't have to search for it.

Now this is the really good part - which I have mentioned before - where Sym uses his nose to find out where he left the ball.

"Find it!" I cry and off he goes, nose to the ground, looking for it.

When he locates it - and he nearly always does - he switches into smug mode again and trots off along the path, casually dropping the ball somewhere along my line of march so that I can throw it again.

On those rare occasions when he drops the ball a little too far from the track, or I just can't be bothered to walk those extra few steps, I say "Fetch it!" and he jogs back down the track, picks it up and drops it a little closer to me.

Sometimes - the times when he doesn't want to go home - the "Gimme dat!" order is unpacked and aimed right at him!  He knows when this command is used it means ...

  1.  it's definitely time to go home and  
  2.  double cheese reward for compliance

I always put him back on his leash at this point and drape it over his back, letting him walk to heel for the last two hundred metres or so back to the car.

He really is a good boy at heart.

Did I ever mention that I'm proud of my pup?

Sunday, 6 March 2011

My Boy Sym And His Ball

It was no different from any other walk.

Sox prowled around ignoring me. Clover was at my heels ... just in case I tried to run away.

Sym, well, he was hunkering down in the long grass waiting for the ball to be thrown.

It was!

Up he jumped and sped after it, easily making up ground and catching it on the second bounce.   He jogged back along the path and dumped it at (almost) my feet and off he went to assume his 'throw it now' position in the long grass.

This went on again and again and he successfully caught and returned his ball to me each time.

But ...

... here it comes...

... on the second lap of our walk he caught the ball and was immediately distracted.

He dashed off into the long grass (slightly longer than the 'other' long grass where he would wait for his ball to be thrown).

I called him back, but he didn't respond.  I called him 'Sym' and he returned straight away!

Minus his ball!

I sent him back to find it but, nearly 15 minutes of his nose sniffing though the undergrowth (is it still called 'undergrowth' when there's nothing over it?) produced nothing.

I scolded him and walked on. He followed, as did Clover (Sox hadn't even noticed we had stopped and was on her way home) but he was constantly looking and waiting for a ball to be thrown.

I walked about 75 yards down the track and sat on a log that the council had dumped by the path so that they wouldn't have to spend any money on a park bench.

Sym approached and I could tell he was somewhat confused as to why his ball wasn't being thrown for him.

"Sorry" I said showing him the ball-less flicky-stick. "If you hadn't lost your ball, you'd still be playing".

He sniffed the end of the stick then galloped (can a dog gallop?) away, back the way we had come.

All I could see from where I sat was the white tip of his bushy tail as it criss-crossed the longer long grass area where he had lost his ball.

Within five minutes he was bounding down the track with ...

... you've guessed it...

... his ball stuck in his mouth!

I gave him a big fuss and praised him to the heavens and back!

He grinned from ear to ear, as only a smug Border Collie can, and romped off into the long (not so long this time) grass and awaited the flight of his newly found ball.

It flew!

He's a damned clever boy, my Sym!

Saturday, 18 December 2010

The Misery Of A Short-legged Man

After my post of yesterday it began to snow again!

We have now had an estimated 30+ cm and even the women in 4X4s are staying at home.

I was out on an over night call and have only just made it home!

The reference made in the title of this post is, of course, to myself.

My upper body is convinced that it is 6'4" tall and behaves accordingly but, unfortunately, my legs believe that they belong to a Munchkin and destroy the overall picture of Herculean manliness.

Being let down in the area of physical development by my titchy little legs is not pleasant!

Believe me, with the snow as deep as it is, I have really come to know the true meaning of 'Snowballs'!

I now have a hot water bottle defrosting my crown jewels.

And you thought you had it bad!!!