Ordinary Names

Cold and frosty, the Rec is white with rime, and we can do "snow angels" by lying on our backs and thrashing about in the crispy grass. It's a day for meeting dogs with "ordinary" names. There's a big old black greyhound called Dave. He lopes across to us with his face obscured by a huge, grown-up sized proper stitched leather football (which makes me woof a bit in alarm ; never have I seen a football-headed dog before!).

Dad assumes it must be damaged and flat because surely no dog could grab onto a full sized soccer ball? But, No, he has such a massive wide gape he is simply gripping it in his cannines, like we would a tennis ball. Dave puts it down to do that sniffing all round thing that we dogs use for "Good day to you, Sir!", and I try to nick it. Ha! Could barely nip the stitching, certainly couldn't get hold of it.

As we part the man boots the ball a hundred yards or so, Beckham-style, and Dave, barely breaking into a canter, chases off to round it up again. Apparently, that's his way. Half an hour of chasing the ball and meeting other dogs, the walk home, 10 minutes lie down in the yard to cool off, breakfast, then he'll sleep for the rest of the day!

Also "Charlie" the golden lab who comes and says a friendly hello and runs around with us for a while. We looked around for a "John" or an "Andy" but no. Mind you we did find the ever more bouncy and healthy Gigot and his crowd. He's signed off by the vet now - clean bill of health, and a credit to the humans who have rescued him and taken him in.

Enjoy your Sunday

Deefs