I’m working on a commission, writing about cats. So I’m taking a break from cats and writing about greyhounds on here. In particular, one little lady and her mates.
So, it’s a Saturday morning and the Daisy Dog and I are on one of our plods. We’ve plodded through castle field, past the remains of the castle and down into Forge Valley: an ancient wooded valley, which was formed during the last ice age.
We follow the grassy path, along the edge of the river Derwent. The Daisy Dog reads the numerous doggy newspapers, written by her doggy friends and I look for otter tracks. I’m becoming a bit obsessed with them. I think I’ve found one and then I realise it’s a dog print.
We round the bend and there they are… Cesar Milan and his pack of dogs.
This guy is walking two dogs, off their leads and we get talking, as dog walkers do. One of the dogs, who has some lurcher in him, is a rescue dog. I listen to a bite-size ( sorry!) tale of his previous life. Cesar 2 as I mentally christen him is really into dogs and has been on just about every dog training course he could go on. And it shows… his dogs are calm, friendly and great around the Daisy Dog, who is on her lead. He mentions Cesar Milan and how he is over here at the moment and I swear his eyes glaze over. I must be psychic… how did I know he was a fan of Cesar?
We talk about Cesar 1. I too love watching his TV shows. He has an amazing way with dogs and I marvel at how he gets away with some of the things he does. Oh… a dog bit him? Well, you can’t win them all.
“She has a bit of a nervous look about her,” says Cesar 2.
“Do you think?” says I
Cesar 2’s appraisal of the Daisy Dog may well prove to be correct as just of lately she has been getting a bit mouthy (make that a lot mouthy!) occasionally,with other dogs. The other dogs just stand and look at her and Mr Whale and I have been wondering whether it is a case of nerves.
I still have a fistful of sausages, lamb or pork whenever I’m out with the Daisy Dog. I smell bloody amazing to dogs and they come from miles around to see me. This is probably not helping the Daisy Dog and her nerves, as they come charging across fields at ridiculous speeds to check out Mrs Sausage Woman!
Meanwhile, back to the sunny pasture where everything is settled. Cesar 2 has been telling me a few tricks he has learnt about dogs and I’ve been on a brief dog psychology course. It’s all interesting stuff and he seems to know his stuff.
But, I’ve slipped up and told him about my plans to do some recall training with the Daisy Dog… when I get my training lead. I couldn’t help it. He’s been saying how sad a life it is for dogs that never go off the lead.
My dog is not sad and I do want her to run free… but, not off and away. That is bloody irresponsible.
“So you haven’t let her off the lead yet?”
“No,” I admit.” Not yet and it won’t be here. The field is too big and she’ll likely clear off. There’s a definite little madam streak in the Daisy Dog. Besides I need to do some recall training first.
“She could go off here,” he says glancing around the doggy heaven that we are gossiping our Saturday morning away in.
Again, I tell him that I’m not ready to let her off and that it is not as enclosed as I would like. I quickly change the subject and ask him about his dogs.
He gives me a few more of his doggy tips.
His dogs wander around and sniff the grass. The Daisy Dog goes as far as she can on the lead. And I feel so damn guilty.
It’s too late… our Cesar 2 is a mind reader as well it seems.
“So,” says Cesar 2 ” Are you going to let her off then?”
I look around the tranquil, gated at each end field, with the river Derwent winding its way down the east side of it.
” Go on!” and Cesar 2 gives me his best, persuasive grin.
I’ll be back to tell you whether I did or I didn’t soon. How soon that soon is will depend on loads of things, that are, as usual out of my control.
I will try to make it back before Christmas.
Thanks for dropping by.
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