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!
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!
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