Well its happened again. Mrs Thatcher (not her real name*) has done it again. The first time it happened I excused it as "call of nature". But a second time is too much. Picture if you please a village idyll. A woman walks her doggies through the town, towards the quay for some seagull taunting and bog wrestling. Blossom* (a black labrador, flat coat mix, conceived in a hedgerow in Suffolk) sniffs at the morning breeze for suggestions of bacon butties whilst her smaller companion, Mrs Thatcher, part diva lap dog, part killer terrier (conceived behind a fence in Chelmsford)) triples along next to her, her silky knickerbockers bouncing saucily behind her. Tis joy to be alive!
To get to the quay, one needs to cross at a pedestrian crossing and then out along the river to the boats. Easily and neatly done as there is rarely any traffic. "Come along doggies!" and off we go. Rather annoyingly, Mr Thatcher is dragging behind a little, unusually too as her "competitive" nature means she tends to be more of a "front runner". Nonetheless off we go. Look left, right, left again, oh some cars coming but they are slowing down. I set off across the the road, Blossom looking up for reassurance and ... come on Mrs Thatcher... no really , come one.... I tug her off the curb and into the middle of the road but suddenly find she is refusing to follow me. I turn, and as if in slow motion I see her "assume the position." Her back arches, her knickerbockers are tucked way under her, her sail like tail held aloft, ears flattened back and eyes at half mast.
NOW?! you have to go now!?! I can feel the panic rising and my face reddening as at least one driver starts the hysrionic rolling of eyes and throwing of hands heaven-wards move PUh! Tsk! PFffTT! Must be a cat person. I yank the lead. No. She isn't budging. She shuts her eyes: "Please leave moi to mon business, if you please." I steal a look in either direction from under my hair- and there I see it, cars in both directions , now actually backing up to two or three each way patiently sitting it out as Mrs Thatcher evacuates her bowels.
I wave anxiously and mouth S-O-R-R-Y..... as I start to scrabble for a poo-baggie, hissing under my breath, "Come ON Mrs Thatcher!!" She looks up at me , staggers forward a couple of inches and settles in for ANOTHER go. God Almighty you crazy dog ! how much have u got in there?! (note to self- never feed the terrier ever again)
By now I can hear the laughter of people amassing on the pavements to watch the drama unfold, Mrs Thatcher continues to hunch and wiggle her bottom undeterred. Blossom feels hours have passed, and is now bored, so sits down in the road as I now point my butt to the wind and crouch down to scoop up mademoiselles deposits trailing along the zebra crossing.
My humiliation is complete.
For her part Mrs Thatcher leaves the scene of the crime with a victorious little backward scuff oh her hind paws, showing off her knickerbockers to full effect as she saucily triples off the road onto the pavement to the applause of the onlookers.
Thank you, yes, thank you, we're here all week..
Sunday 25 July 2010
Monday 5 July 2010
Collie-Ballie
For those of you who have never played Collie Ballie I hasten to warn you that it is not for the faint hearted and involves much more kinetic involvement than its more genteel cousin, Pooh Sticks.
To get things going, ask your Collie to come on a walk with you, take along a tennis ball, a ball “chucker” and a determined stride as well as a well honed truck driver's baritone which, it seems, is the only voice some labradors will respond to. And so off you go, diligently throwing the ball from left to right watching in delight as the genius that is Collie Wobbles (not her real name) flies on the wings of Apollo from one end of a field to the other as you work your way across the Finn Valley. At some point on this rural amble, usually shortly after the Labrador, Banana McFly (also, not her real name) has ambushed a herd of cows, she and the Collie will repair to their favorite spot on the river banks to cool down, by wading in a little and drinking deep on the restorative waters of the somewhat flooded Finn Valley. As Collie Wobbles in no expert on things like localised flooding and liquid velocity it is with horror that she notices her Ballie has been swept away by the waters. In a flurry of hysterical woofs, which crescendo into a high voltage yelp, Collie Wobbles watches her Ballie head downstream at some speed.
And so begins the game. Collie Wobbles paws at the water whilst yours truly starts running down the river on an increasingly precarious and very slippery river bank. Banana McFly notices that some sort of panic is underway and immediately throws her whiplash tail into the fray. Please note the elements of a good game of Collie Ballie- one escapee tennis ball heading down stream, one hysterical yelping Collie, one underfoot, over excited labrador and one childless woman, clearly struggling to separate the nouns "child" and "dog" as she throws concerns for her safety to the wind and barrels headlong down a river bank adjacent to a very fast moving, very deep, very murky river.
It is important for the human involved in this game to occasionally scamper further down the embankment, dangle their full weight from a dried out thistle and stab wildly at the passing ballie with the ball chucker shouting, "Don't worry Collie Wobbles, we'll catch it on the next bend", before throwing herself back up the embankment and scamper ing along to the next feasible stop. Labradors find Collie Ballie a super game and like to jump in and out of the river all the way without actually bothering to retrieve said ballie. For the Labrador, the fun is really in running back up the incline to shake all over their person and taunt the Collie with their superior swimming skills.
Finally the game comes to an end when the human announces "Sorry Collie Wobbles, we'll have to leave it its gone into the rapids now“, at which point the Collie looks quizzically, cocks her head to one side, turns to the river and launches herself full throttle off the stubbled bank and into the swell. "Come back Collie Wobbles! All is forgiven!" Collie Wobbles doesn't even need to paddle as she is spirit down river, keeping her ears dry and her tail held aloft the waves like a beautiful sail, she catches up with her ballie on the corner, transforms her tail into a rudder and drifts ashore with all the elegance of a swan. She looks tranquil and smug as Banana McFly and yours truly look on in amazement, wheezing and panting. Great game, needs three to play, winner takes all.
To get things going, ask your Collie to come on a walk with you, take along a tennis ball, a ball “chucker” and a determined stride as well as a well honed truck driver's baritone which, it seems, is the only voice some labradors will respond to. And so off you go, diligently throwing the ball from left to right watching in delight as the genius that is Collie Wobbles (not her real name) flies on the wings of Apollo from one end of a field to the other as you work your way across the Finn Valley. At some point on this rural amble, usually shortly after the Labrador, Banana McFly (also, not her real name) has ambushed a herd of cows, she and the Collie will repair to their favorite spot on the river banks to cool down, by wading in a little and drinking deep on the restorative waters of the somewhat flooded Finn Valley. As Collie Wobbles in no expert on things like localised flooding and liquid velocity it is with horror that she notices her Ballie has been swept away by the waters. In a flurry of hysterical woofs, which crescendo into a high voltage yelp, Collie Wobbles watches her Ballie head downstream at some speed.
And so begins the game. Collie Wobbles paws at the water whilst yours truly starts running down the river on an increasingly precarious and very slippery river bank. Banana McFly notices that some sort of panic is underway and immediately throws her whiplash tail into the fray. Please note the elements of a good game of Collie Ballie- one escapee tennis ball heading down stream, one hysterical yelping Collie, one underfoot, over excited labrador and one childless woman, clearly struggling to separate the nouns "child" and "dog" as she throws concerns for her safety to the wind and barrels headlong down a river bank adjacent to a very fast moving, very deep, very murky river.
It is important for the human involved in this game to occasionally scamper further down the embankment, dangle their full weight from a dried out thistle and stab wildly at the passing ballie with the ball chucker shouting, "Don't worry Collie Wobbles, we'll catch it on the next bend", before throwing herself back up the embankment and scamper ing along to the next feasible stop. Labradors find Collie Ballie a super game and like to jump in and out of the river all the way without actually bothering to retrieve said ballie. For the Labrador, the fun is really in running back up the incline to shake all over their person and taunt the Collie with their superior swimming skills.
Finally the game comes to an end when the human announces "Sorry Collie Wobbles, we'll have to leave it its gone into the rapids now“, at which point the Collie looks quizzically, cocks her head to one side, turns to the river and launches herself full throttle off the stubbled bank and into the swell. "Come back Collie Wobbles! All is forgiven!" Collie Wobbles doesn't even need to paddle as she is spirit down river, keeping her ears dry and her tail held aloft the waves like a beautiful sail, she catches up with her ballie on the corner, transforms her tail into a rudder and drifts ashore with all the elegance of a swan. She looks tranquil and smug as Banana McFly and yours truly look on in amazement, wheezing and panting. Great game, needs three to play, winner takes all.
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