Spring Training
That’s puppy Mara.
Sunlight streams though dirty windows.
Casting shadows from purple parka collar onto hands and keyboard.
When I leash walked Henrietta around our yard at sunrise,
I wished old dog was here to teach new.
Birds are singing,
chipmunks scurrying,
and tightly packed daffodil buds await thermometer’s rise.
Had 2020 not been leap year—today would mark one year,
from tail thumping floor farewell.
I don’t know if Henrietta is cut out for baseball…
but I’d like to give it a pitch.
Today I’m going to wrangle up a team and we’ll head down to the field.
Let spring training begin!
A throwback post from July 2016……
A Dog, Her Boy, A Bat, A Ball
She stands at the ready. Saliva covered ball at her paws. Eyes intensely focused on the pitcher. Muscles tense. Focus intense. There is no talking to her.
The pitcher begins to move. She picks up the ball at her feet in a split second. She watches as the batter swings and the ball whizzes past to the driveway pad above. The pitcher and batter shout simultaneously “DROP”!!
She releases the ball in her jaws. Quick as lightning, she races up the hill, retrieves the game ball and jogs back down to the rag-tag field.
Pitcher and batter call out simultaneously “TRADE”!!
She drops the game ball and picks up her ball. She immediately resumes the ready position.
There is no talking to her!
Her eyes will the pitcher to release the ball so that she can go again.
She is a Labrador Retriever and came into this world genetically programmed to use her nose to find and mouth to retrieve. That is her purpose. No searching or outside input required.
She has never once questioned this obsession.
There is added excitement and skill needed when the ball lands in the tall grass and grapevines. Her tail and hind quarters do the happiest wagging and wiggling you might ever see. She always emerges triumphant, ball in mouth.
What joyful memory will you share in today’s comment thread?
Hi Gail, Joyful memories? What better response to times a bit short on joy! And what better vehicle to transport us to joy than memories of our dog companions.
Near our home sits a county park running parallel with a beautiful canopy road. Hundreds of acres of open fields, bike/horse/walking trails, and margins of mature live oak trees. The open field part has beckoned to both our last, departed dog and now our present Fido, Izzie.
Cha-Cha, dog-gone, was an odd looking mixed breed rescue, all 15 pounds of her. My dearest memory is of her bounding through the tall fields of summer grass. Pepe le Pew of sorts. Those fields afforded her”big dog” moments, her demeanor that of pure joy as she briefly appeared above the grass then vanished as the next bound arrived.
Now, Izzie is quite different. A labradoodle, 1/4 lab & 3/4 poodle, is tall and a great sprinter. But a hunter/sniffer? 3/4 poodle? I had thought poodles were these oddities, with some sporting strategically placed large cotton balls for dramatic effect. Hunters?
They were bred as such. Oops!
My two earliest memories of taking her to the Greenway stand out. Only a few months after she joined our 2-person pack I took her for a very early morning walk. Summer days here in Tallahassee can be scorchingly hot and humid... in the early predawn light I spotted some bobbing flickering lights close to the ground and a higher light. Likely a head lamp.
Izzie was on leash as we approached this oddity. The human, still 100+ yards away, called out, “It’s okay. You can release her.” I did, on the basis of something I couldn’t articulate. Voice tone? Some connection of our spirits?
With her full optimistic, enthusiastic energy Iz took off to make introductions. To a strange human with four Rhodesian Ridgebacks! On leash, collar light sources pulsing. Iz proceeded to sniff each new friend, pounce on each and pass beneath the dogs’ bellies. Batting their heads with her large fore paws.
Trust rewarded, Bob - owner - had the dogs impressively trained to his voice and continued to tell his dogs, “She’s only a puppy. She’s just a puppy.” Later he advised that meant, “Not a snack.”
That meeting was Izzie’s own big dog moment and it has never left her.
The other joyful episode was when I learned that her mix of lab + poodle was pure field dog. A few months later, when letting her off leash was suitable, a trip to the Greenway resulted in her sweeping the tall grass like a bird dog after the scent of quail.
What is she after, I thought? Quail? Nope, bright orange limited flight golf balls! In short order she found almost a dozen on that one trip! Ditto future trips. While I first thought “location by sight” she later dispelled that theory. On that trip I paid very close attention to her working the grass. Stopping she began digging in the soft soil to about 6 inches deep! Bingo! Orange golf ball!! Further, I’ve learned that white ones lack appeal. If she comes across one she might pick it up and drop almost immediately. The orange discoveries usually result in her bringing it to me.
The nose. The mouth. All hunter, with discernment!