Sticks and stones
When the kids were small we had a lovely German Shepherd called Kayleigh (yes it was around 1985 and she was named after the Marillion song but not by us (we had rescued her from my brother in law))

Being less than a year old she was full of fun and was never satisfied when out for a walk when it was time to go home. She used to think the whole coming-back-to-her-owner-to-be-put-on-a-lead was a big game and would come bounding up to me until she was just in range before veering off and running away. It got so I would take her for hour and a half walks: half an hour walk followed by an hour of catching her. I couldn't just give up and walk home without her on the lead because we had to cross a busy road and I didn't want to be scraping her off the tarmac.

I would chase her, but she out ran me.

I would fall over and stay still and then, when she came over to make sure I was really dead I would make a grab for her collar, but she had faster reactions than me.

I would call her in a variety of different cadences, sounding like some over enthusiastic loon but she would just cock her head to one side and look at me as if I had gone mad.

I would throw a stick so that when she brought it back I could attach the lead but she took to dropping the stick about six feet from.

Then I had the great idea of throwing stones for her. I gathered a handful of stones and threw one. She chased after it then came back. I threw one so it landed nearer and kept throwing stones until they were landing a couple of feet from me. Then I would pounce and grab her collar.

This worked better than intended because after a couple of days I threw a stone intending it to land about twenty feet away and missed, hitting Kayleigh on the side of the head. She yelped and then came straight to me. From then on she came straight away whenever she was called.

I actually started to miss the challenge of catching her.
(bald old git was bemused and befuddled on, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 13:41, Reply)