We had a good time the other day when Dad and I went for a bike ride. First of all, our intent was to go for a big long ride to the east side of town to a place on the greenbelt where it comes within 20 feet or so of the river. This is a favorite stick retrieving spot for Dad and me. But a funny thing happened on the way to the river before we had a chance to get there. Let me explain.
We were cruising along on the greenbelt about a mile from home when we came up on Trent and Gin, a nice couple who live in our apartment complex. They have an Australian shepherd named Annie who is about my size and age. We are both full of energy so it’s fun to play with Annie. Our owners moved to a place where we had some room to run around so we got to play for ten minutes or so while they talked.
Here are a couple videos of Annie and I playing:
Dogs get their fair share of bad press now and then. It seems certain types, like Dobermans and Rottweilers, among others, can’t keep their tempers in check. While some of the bad press is deserved, some is not. There are many dogs who perform valuable duties like those that help guide the blind, find dangerous contraband, apprehend criminals and save lives. They don’t get enough of the good attention they deserve.
There was an article in the paper Dad told me about recently that has gotten plenty of attention. I found it disturbing but for reasons that don’t seem to be addressed by anything in the media that we’ve come across. In particular there was one minor detail that really got my goat. In case you haven’t heard about the incident, let me give you some background.
I don’t have documentation on my family heritage that goes back very far. In fact it only goes back as far as me since I don’t know my real father and they took me away from my mother before I really got to know her. However I think I know about where my roots are founded so let me explain. I have good reason to believe I come from a small province in Northeastern Canada.
Now you might be thinking, well, duh – you’re a Labrador Retriever so your roots are in Labrador which is a province in Northeastern Canada. My answer to this is – you’re close. I’m pretty sure I come from a lesser known province named Skitland. You probably won’t find it on any map because it’s quite small.
We were out doing our business the other day when I spotted a wine cork. Dad saw it too but didn’t think it would be harmful so when I grabbed it in my mouth he didn’t think too much about it. He probably thought I would find something more interesting like a stick, and drop the cork. Well I didn’t find anything more interesting so the cork stayed in my mouth.
We went inside and I snuck off to the bedroom with my new treasure. I got behind the bed with my head under the bed and inspected my new toy. It was short on flavor but had enough chewy goodness to keep my attention. After a few minutes, Dad was wondering where I’d gotten off to. He came in and found me. I’m not that good at concealing my feelings. He remembered the cork and asked me about it.
I’m a dog so it’s pretty normal for me to chew on stuff. Anything that’s round and on the floor is fair game. I was gnawing on something last night and I ended up getting quite an education. Turns out it was one of Dad’s golf balls. He had taken a couple balls out of his golf bag the other day so he could practice his putting on the carpet.
I’m kind of a curious sort and when you want to find out about something, the best way I know of is to chew on it and see what it’s made of. I was in for a little surprise. First of all, the outside texture was much to my liking. It was tough so it presented itself as a challenge. I like challenges so of course I bit it a little more. Mmm. Chewy.