The Master of Disaster

That fucking, sodding bloody Pointer. I love him so much. Little spotted bastard.

We were playing ball in the park - we take turns, with one dog tied to the goalpost while the other gets my undivided attention for five minutes, swap dogs, rinse and repeat. Spike goes loose, Squish gets clipped to the end of a twenty-yard clothesline when it's his turn because Squish's recall is a bit iffy still. I stand about ten feet away from the goalpost so both dogs are in my field of vision. It's worked well so far.

Until today, when Murphy introduced the cat factor. It was a big floofy tortoiseshell Persian and it was prowling in and out of the hedge further up the park, a hundred yards or so away, which is when Squish spotted it while I was throwing the ball for Spike.

Curse his sudden but inevitable rush of instinct. Of course he wanted to chase the damn thing. What dog wouldn't? The part I wasn't expecting was the part where the D-ring on his bloody fucking collar broke and I was left with my dodgy-recall dog running loose, collarless and really overexcited in joyful pursuit of someone's poor unfortunate cat.

By the time I caught up with him the cat was thirty feet up a sycamore and Squish was bouncing and yapping hysterically at the foot of the tree. I didn't attempt to recall him at this point - I knew damn well he was far too wound up to listen and I didn't see any point in reminding him that he has the option of ignoring me. I decided the best thing was to act as though I'd meant this to happen, so I plastered a happy happy joy joy look on my face and went to join him at the base of the tree. I figured if I kept his attention on the cat he'd be less likely to take off on a running tour of the district and I'd probably be able to grab him all casual-like.

The trouble with Squish, though, is that he really isn't stupid, and even while I was looking up at the tree making "Wow, what's that up there! Clever dog for catching it!" noises, he knew perfectly well I'd stop his fun as soon as he came in touching distance. He also knew that with Spike and I at the base of the tree, that cat wasn't going anywhere any time soon, so he started running round the park. Maybe there'd be another cat!

Anyway. Long story short. Squish has made some progress. He was only running around for - I'm not sure, maybe five minutes? It felt like hours - before he trotted back in my direction, looking at me. I bent over, patting my thighs in that "come here" way that you do, and he did. Happy happy joy joy for real! I loved on him like mad while I cobbled Spike's harness together with the broken collar to make something I could hold on to him by for the short walk home.

I hope that cat can make it down all right...

The Master of Disaster

That fucking, sodding bloody Pointer. I love him so much. Little spotted bastard.

We were playing ball in the park - we take turns, with one dog tied to the goalpost while the other gets my undivided attention for five minutes, swap dogs, rinse and repeat. Spike goes loose, Squish gets clipped to the end of a twenty-yard clothesline when it's his turn because Squish's recall is a bit iffy still. I stand about ten feet away from the goalpost so both dogs are in my field of vision. It's worked well so far.

Until today, when Murphy introduced the cat factor. It was a big floofy tortoiseshell Persian and it was prowling in and out of the hedge further up the park, a hundred yards or so away, which is when Squish spotted it while I was throwing the ball for Spike.

Curse his sudden but inevitable rush of instinct. Of course he wanted to chase the damn thing. What dog wouldn't? The part I wasn't expecting was the part where the D-ring on his bloody fucking collar broke and I was left with my dodgy-recall dog running loose, collarless and really overexcited in joyful pursuit of someone's poor unfortunate cat.

By the time I caught up with him the cat was thirty feet up a sycamore and Squish was bouncing and yapping hysterically at the foot of the tree. I didn't attempt to recall him at this point - I knew damn well he was far too wound up to listen and I didn't see any point in reminding him that he has the option of ignoring me. I decided the best thing was to act as though I'd meant this to happen, so I plastered a happy happy joy joy look on my face and went to join him at the base of the tree. I figured if I kept his attention on the cat he'd be less likely to take off on a running tour of the district and I'd probably be able to grab him all casual-like.

The trouble with Squish, though, is that he really isn't stupid, and even while I was looking up at the tree making "Wow, what's that up there! Clever dog for catching it!" noises, he knew perfectly well I'd stop his fun as soon as he came in touching distance. He also knew that with Spike and I at the base of the tree, that cat wasn't going anywhere any time soon, so he started running round the park. Maybe there'd be another cat!

Anyway. Long story short. Squish has made some progress. He was only running around for - I'm not sure, maybe five minutes? It felt like hours - before he trotted back in my direction, looking at me. I bent over, patting my thighs in that "come here" way that you do, and he did. Happy happy joy joy for real! I loved on him like mad while I cobbled Spike's harness together with the broken collar to make something I could hold on to him by for the short walk home.

I hope that cat can make it down all right...