Feel free to tell me off...
As I just realised I lied in my last story. I said that my well behaved dog always comes to heel when called. She doesn't. Well, 99% of the time she does...

I'd taken her out for a walk on the field up by the Royal Birkdale Golf Course. The Royal is one of those unbearably snotty golf clubs where they have major tournaments and seems to exist purely to highlight the yawning social chasm between the haves and the have nots. However the land around it is public and there's a fantastic view through to the sea, so it make a lovely place to take the mutt for a run.

We were about halfway through the walk, doggy had done her usual thing of going and greeting everyone she came to like they were the most exciting thing she'd ever seen and I'd taken my eye off her for 20 seconds, assuming she was fighting with Pip, a psychotic poodle from down the road. I looked around and she's nowhere. I panic, there's a fairly main road running past the field, but there's no way she can have got up there that fast, plus she has pretty good road sense. I look towards the bushes, out towards the dunes. Nada. There's only one place she can be...

My worst fears were confirmed when I heard irate shouting coming from the 14th green. For there, gamboling and skipping like an errant school girl is my dog, right as some bloke is lining up to take a shot. I screamed at her to get back. She hears me, but the sight of these people waving sticks (one of her favourite things) and this little white ball (another thing she loves) is too much for her. She picks up the ball and runs towards me, thinking she's being really clever. But the gap in the fence isn't where she remembers it to be and she's stuck. Panic sets in. She takes off in the oppposite direction with the ball still in her mouth with 2 of the guys chasing her.

Eventually they manage to corral her through a hole in the fence; I prise her jaws open, remove the ball and wipe it clean of doggy dribble.

I then stood there, head hung in shame as these 4 twunts in pringle jumpers berate me for having the audacity to not be able to control my, quite clearly, rabid dog. I believe the words animal control were mentioned. I slipped her back on the lead and went home to tell mum what had happened. Once she'd finished pissing herself laughing she said "well she's never done that to me..." Cheers.

Mind you, the next time my mum took the dog onto the field, it managed to knock over chippy scottish football pundit extrodinare, Mr Alan Hansen, so I guess I got away lightly...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Tue 25 Sep 2007, 15:46, Reply)