pet connection

Yesterday I took the dogs out to my sister’s 35-acre hobby farm because my brother-in-law David might be interested in pheasant hunting with Dodger this fall. Like me, Dodger is a city resident who runs off leash only in a fenced dog park. His recall is iffy when he has detected anything that moves, such as a bird, varmint or insect. I know Dodger would love hunting, but the real question is will he listen well enough to David to make it work. Yesterday was our first trial run during which I held my breath and tried not to whimper at the thought of the City Sporting Dog charging through open fields.

David, Dodger, Ginger and I went down to the lower portion of their land, which has a creek in. It was hot and humid yesterday, but mostly humid. Nonetheless, Dodger ran like a dog possessed. “God, look at him FLY!” said David repeatedly. Despite Dodger’s excitement, he didn’t usually range farther than about 100 yards from us. Wait until David sees him run in cool fall weather.

Dodger flushed a turkey – it was amazing to see. I saw the magnificent bird take off; it was much bigger than I thought it would be. Domestic turkeys are stupid because all their brains have been bred out to make room for a larger chest, but wild turkeys are intelligent and wily – and beautiful. David was thrilled to see Dodger’s instincts.

Eventually Ginger was getting pooped (she is 13). After we established that Dodger was listening to David reasonably well despite his freedom-related ecstasy, Ginger and I went back to the house while David and Dodger went on without us. I was nervous but I know that hunting with David would make Dodger ecstatic and we have to find out if it’s even a possibility. I kept wondering if he got hurt by running into barbed wire, if he just took off running, etc. They finally came back to the house.

They came up on the deck and David said “tell your mom what you did, Dodger.” I involuntarily looked for blood but found only a big blue splotch on his head and the side of his face.  He’d run into a black raspberry bush. The berries exploded on contact. He didn’t notice.

Here’s the really scary part. David told Laura that compared to his English Setter Roxanne, who was also from a field line, Dodger could run twice as fast. Laura’s face registered surprise. My knees buckled. Now I understand why other people at the dog park with English Setters stare when he whizzes by in a blur.

“There are field bred and then there are field bred,” said Louisa Johnson, the rescue person who took Dodger in and got him to me.  “Seeing Dodger’s speed, I believe he came from a field breeder who ran their dogs in field trials. In field trials, speed and accuracy both count.  So the faster and accurate dog gets the high marks.” Oh joy.

So much for the therapy dog I thought I was getting.

“Oh, he’s calm inside the house,” she said. Well, he’s certainly calmer inside than outside, but that’s not saying much. At this point, I figure he’ll be calm enough to be a therapy dog in about 5 more years. I told Louisa she has no idea how often I use her name in vain. Still, I love to watch other people as he flies by.

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