Just call me Kenny Dogleash

My favourite ball on a string

Back from the Cow Field, where I found myself in trouble yet again.

The Cow Field is next to the Football Field and I simply joined in a game of football.  I am actually very good at it. In fact when I was holiday and stole a toddler’s ball, then dribbled it up the beach; the child’s father said I should have been called Rooney.

This started me imagining a dog fantasy football team, called The Rovers, obviously...  

Sir Bobby Paw (Team Captain)

Peter Bonetti (goalkeeper)

Brian LaBone

Ross Barkley

Johan Crufts

Didier Dogba

Doggo Maradona  

EL Hadji Woof

Gnashley Cole

Chris Barker

Robbie Growler

With Alan Ball (on a string) and Butch Wilkins in reserve.

Sorry, I digress. Back to the story.

Invading the pitch is unusual for a Tuesday – it’s something I usually do on a Wednesday, when Beard is at mountain rescue training and Weird has to take me out on her own.  This usually results in her trying to catch me for 10 minutes while both teams leave the field, followed by a round of apologies and general grovelling.

I must say that the Cow Field has become one of my favourite places since rabid Bono (see February blog) has now disappeared (presumably he’s been made into Araldite based on his previous performance). Other than a crazy German Shepherd whose human jogs around wearing Speedos and occasionally wrestles him to the ground for no apparent reason, the local dog population is very civilised. Top of my list are Rosie, Galu, Caspar, Molly and Trevor – all collies, along with spaniels Harvey and Charlie. We all meet up once or twice a day and  generally go berserk. 

What’s best about the Cow Field is that it is an egalitarian community.  The humans refer to each other as ‘Bounce’s dad’, ‘Rosie’s mum’ ........ and even ‘Harvey’s nan’. Hysterical!  No-one talks about work , money, cars, they just talk about dogs.

B and Galu’s mum have recently come up with a dog socialisation training project that involves spending Thursday evenings in the bar at The Ship and this is proving surprisingly popular.  Not for us dogs, mind, who have to lie quietly under the table.  We mostly spend the time searching for discarded chips and peeling previously-used chewing gum from under the table tops. This is delicious - you should try it.

I did have one moment of joy at the Cow Field last week.  Being Wednesday night, B was off being Ray Mears, so W had to take me out, which she plainly loathed.  After trudging around for an hour she threw my ball on a string over the barbed wire fence (RSPCA-level negligence in my opinion) and I dropped in on the way back. 

Too lazy to walk to the end of the field, she crawled through, reached the ball and found herself firmly fixed by the hair.  So there she was, bum in the air in the middle of an empty field, trapped. 

I suppose I could have attempted some Lassie-style rescue, but frankly I couldn’t be bothered, so I lay down and had a doze. It took her half an hour to escape.  

Just as well that German Shepherd and Speedo guy didn’t put in an appearance... anything could have happened.