I’ve never been pulled off my feet by a dog until this morning. Trezza and I took the two of them to the back of the University where there are three football pitches side by side. Our conversation was along the lines of, ‘Hmm, you know, well, but dare we give him a little run…’ A brand new dog in a brand new spot : we were naturally worried he might shoot off and not come back, that was the thing. But on the other hand, he was clearly keen to release some pent-up energy. In any event the decision was made for us as Dylan, being loose as is usual for him, flew past Lemon’s nose for a second effort at provocation. I had Lemon on an extension lead which he’d already zipped to it’s full length the first time Dylan tried this, giving me a tremendous jolt and yanking my arm half out of its socket. I learned nothing from that exercise. Dylan’s second effort left me face down and Lemon chasing Dylan in loops at 35.7mph with the extension lead flying behind him, acting as no handicap whatsoever. They kept circling towards us, using us as a point of reference to their looping, so we had the hurdle the lead each time they went by as though we were in a ‘Deathwish Die Hard II With a Vengeance’ skipping game (as did one other lady who nearly came a cropper across the other side of the field – luckily she was an agile and unfazed individual). And when they were done Lemon came back like a good boy and got a biscuit for his troubles.
It’s tiring work though