And The Crowd Roared
Subtitle: Opinionated Pooch
Pets have a way of letting you know what they think of your ideas. Some will growl if they are not in the mood to play; others will bite. Some are so mellowed out that they’ll just turn their back to you and sit for hours that way. Others will leave a gift in your bed or on your favorite piece of clothing. Nevertheless we all like to think that our pets will do almost anything for us.
Several years ago I had a magnificent dog, Christie. She was part Norwegian Elkhound and part German Shepherd; her coloring being the shepherd with the thick, kinky Elkhound fur. She looked somewhat like a small, dark bear cub when she was sitting, so much so that when one of our neighbors would come around, he would do his best to cautiously walk the perimeter of the yard where she couldn’t get at him. The thing is that this particular dog wouldn’t harm a person or a flea, for that matter. She was as gentle as a lamb. Everyone adored her, especially the kids in our neighborhood.
For the nearly 20 years of Christie’s life, she played ball or Frisbee almost every day. She was poetry in motion as she sometimes leapt as high as 5’ in the air and caught her favorite toys. I recall getting off of the school bus to see our front yard full of kids and Christie in the middle of them with a tennis ball in her mouth, because she also had a habit of clearing our fence. Sometimes I could swear that there were kids in our yard playing with her that didn’t even live on our street, but would pass the house and play with her on their way to or from school.
She was forever going to the park and finding stray balls to bring home; at one point I believe we counted 15 that she had brought home. Sometimes, she would abandon her own to go for some ancient, dirty ball, abandoned in the grass by some other dog.
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One day I read about a Frisbee contest being held at a local park and decided to enter Christie. I was certain that she could win she was just that good. She never missed a catch.
I arrived early and had a while to practice Christie with her Frisbee after signing her up and so; we practiced with dynamic success for about a half an hour until the actual contest began. She was in rare form that day; I was certain that we would win.
One by one we watched as many beautiful and gifted dogs and their people would display their sporting prowess with the little plastic disks. We saw some amazing stuff. Christie and I were about 11th or 12th in line and when our turn came, I proudly walked Christie to the end of the performing ring where I ordered, “Sit”. She complied and I continued on to the other end. When I was ready, I threw out the Frisbee ever so proudly.
Christie continued to sit. There lay the Frisbee between us where it had hit the ground.
Why, I thought, was she just sitting there? I picked up the Frisbee and walked over to her; whispering in her ear and rubbing her head, I told her that it was time to play with the Frisbee; that she needed to “get” it. Then, I walked back to the other end and threw out the disk once again.
Again, no response. Was something wrong? Was she hurt? I walked over, checked her out for any injury or sore spots; she seemed ok, so I whispered, “Get the Frisbee girl”, in her ear again, gave her a gentle pat on the head and walked back to the tossing end. I felt certain that it would work this time.
Once again, I flung the Frisbee high into the air, anxiously watching for my champion to
catch it. Instead, Christie walked to the Frisbee, picked it up, turned and dropped it. She proceeded to squat over the Frisbee and flood it with her opinion!
I was humiliated. The crowd roared, as Christie finished her statement and walked around the perimeter of the crowd as if she’d done something great!
It was the one and only time that she was just not going to do any bragging about her
Frisbee playing ability. When I got her home, I stepped out of the car and out she came leaping out with the Frisbee in her mouth. Angrily, I took it, threw it as hard and far as I could. She streaked after it, catching it in her mouth at about 3 1/2 feet in the air! It was a glorious catch.
“Why didn’t you do that when I needed you to?” I yelled. She brought the Frisbee back to me and lay down on the ground at my feet. I never entered her in another contest.
Copyright, 2019, M.L. Kiser
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