Week 34: Run Forest, Run!

“Fetch!”

I lob a tennis ball for the Puppo (a 14 week old Spaniel called Milo) to chase. He bounds after it, bouncing enthusiastically as he goes. We are in the middle of a reasonably large, rectangular and enclosed recreation ground near home. There are two entrances (or exits, if you prefer to come in through the out door), a few trees and lots of grass. There’s also a lady sitting on a bench, warming in the sun. Milo reaches the ball, grabs it and turns back towards me. Brilliant, he is doing what he does in the back garden. He gathers speed and very soon is sprinting at me, his floppy, black, fluffy ears flying behind him. All good; I’m confident that he will stop somewhere near me because I’ve been told This Will Happen. He starts to angle slightly to one side on a trajectory towards the exit. I’m not worried, only yesterday when we were out in the Woods of Dogging, some fellow spaniel owners imparted knowledge to me (which, apparently it says in all Good Puppy Training Guides) that 3 month old pups will never go far from their owner as they are not yet confident enough. Further, I should let him off the lead so he learns to stay near me. That‘s what they did and the Guide Books were Spot On. Splendid. If it‘s good enough for you pal, it‘s good enough for me.

Milo whistles passed me and keeps going, head down, flat out. Casually, so as not to look like a newbie owner in front of the Basking Lady on the bench, I call “Milo”. Nothing.

”Milo. MILO!“ Nothing.

OK I will use his recall training. “Milo, come!”. Nope.

Right, I’m going to have to sacrifice dignity and use the “recall” gesture. I yell again “COME!”, this time dramatically plunging my arm and upper body at the floor. Nada. Well, it wouldn’t work would it, he’s looking the other way, running as fast as he can.

The Basking Lady is now looking at me, a half smile flickering across her face. We seemed to have disturbed her reverie and she stands up and walks towards the exit. The one Milo is making a bee-line for (Ed: why is it called a bee-line? Must look it up).

I’m starting to doubt the wisdom of those nice, fellow spaniel owners. Maybe their spaniel isn’t of the Hurricane sub-set of the breed. And once he reaches the path, he has 250 yards to the road. Not busy, but a road all the same.

Bugger, I’m going to have to run. The last time I ran in any form of anger was in 2004. It was this that made me take up cycling. I set off at an 800 metre pace. Quickish, but only a little embarrassing. The Basking Lady is just about at the exit path as Milo approaches. He’s slowed a little in slightly longer grass and I am gaining reasonably quickly. She stops as Milo reaches the tarmac. Boom! It’s as if an attached solid fuel JATO rocket has been ignited. He is off! I reach the Basking Lady. “You’ve nearly caught him” she laughs as I pass her, now sprinting. “Shame you bloody didn’t!”, I pant.

Bloody hell he is quick.

I haven‘t run as fast as that since we were chased In Corfu in 1987 by a bunch of Angry Greek Fellas, who had gotten into an argument with some other English Fellas over one of the English Fella’s girlfriends, and the Greek Fellas decided that this warranted beating-up any other English Fellas that could lay their hands on.

We both went hammering down the path, ironically alongside the adjacent secondary school’s occupied athletics track. As I managed to grab Milo’s collar with 75 yards to spare, a cheer went up from the other side of the fence, along with a cry of “He’s caught that dog!“. Followed by ‘That’s not a dog, it’s a cat!”. Actually no. It’s a cheetah on Speed disguised as dog-cat.

Ah the ignominy of it all.

And the moral? Never listen to the advice of strangers you meet in the woods. Especially ones that are in the woods for Dogging purposes.

It’s been a relatively quite week in Mr H Towers otherwise. GT (Girl Teenager) started half-term and decided to crank though her college assignments as quickly as possible. She is working really hard, noticeably more so than for GCSEs, but as she says, she is now focussed on the subjects that she loves and is enjoying learning. BT (Boy Teenager) has been moving his sleep times slowly forward so that he is no longer nocturnal. Across the course of the week he’s gone from falling asleep at 5.30am to falling asleep at 6pm. This means that he has been up all night with the dog, who senses that there is someone moving about and has largely been annoying BT as he tries to quietly fill his time on the PlayStation and wotnot. Hopefully by the time I am writing week 35‘s blog, both will be sleeping all night and awake during the day.

Gin (so called as she carries an emergency hip-flask filled with the stuff “just in case”) has been counting the days down to her half-term and was hoping for a quiet week. Alas, it wasn’t to be, with three year 11 pupils testing positive for The Covid and the whole year being sent home. That might sound like it would mean teachers have less to do, but it creates work for them as they have to convert lessons to distance-learning and on-line media. When she arrived home on Friday, having staggered through the front door, she made it as far as the Booze Cupboard before collapsing. Hopefully the half-term week will recharge her batteries.

Like everyone else in a High Risk postcode, we are now looking at a diary that is bereft of any indoor entertainment or activity for the foreseeable future. I must profess to be worried by it; our winter is only just getting underway, and the country is gradually closing up. I look to our friends in Melbourne who have been locked-down for 9 months and unable to travel or exercise beyond 5km. Baz is a mad-keen cyclist who will happily clobber through a 100km at the weekend; seeing his ride-tracks (on Strava) reminds me of a manic hamster going round-and-round until his legs (or sanity) gives out. In this house, we don’t need anything to push us closer to insanity. The dog is doing a pretty good job at that already.

And so the week closes, and we look forward to week 35. What will that bring? There will be too much wine (half term innit), some golf and cookering. Might even get some cleaning done. Whatever happens there will be more Dogging, but only on a lead.

Love & elbow-grease,

Mr H

x

PS Our friend Shaena tells me she likes a good PS. Don't we all!