Frisbee fetch is nirvana to the Magical-dawg.
My Magical-Dawg loves to run. I’ve lost weight since we got him, just trying to keep up. We have 13+ acres in N Texas, most of it pasture but about four acres in trees and scrubby “schtuff” that can’t be mowed. Every morning we patrol the spread and the dawg-type turns into a nose-with-legs to inhale every bit of nuance he can.
Throughout the day, we take Frisbee-Breaks but stick to the front pasture. He heads out before me and waits for the first throw, dancing doggy joy until he can snatch it from flight. I run Magic up and down the length of the property as many as a dozen times until his tongue drags in the dirt—so I can work without interruption for another brief stint. We’ve got it down to a science. I take three Frisbees, and he must bring the thrown one back before the next gets lobbed—and on the final pass, he brings ‘em back while I hold the two reserves down with my foot. While he’s shoveling them into hi mouth, I can get the leash back on.
He’s not a fan of the leash, but it’s necessary.
The property was nicknamed “Rabbit Hill” by the old timers, and still fosters cottontails by the dozens. I’ve seen wild turkeys, lots of armadillos, aka ginormous pill bugs, and even a few bobcats. But coyotes rule. They especially rule early mornings, and dusk.
Yesterday late afternoon when we headed out for our Frisbee-Break, Magical-dawg raced away before I got out of the doorway. A coyote had DARED to stomp on his pasture! Off he went to give the cheeky devil what-for. . . and as Magic’s black tail disappeared into the scrubby “sctuff” beyond the pasture, a second coyote appeared and raced after him. Oh. My. Heavens.
Now, Magic loves his Frisbee. About the only thing that trumps Frisbee-Fetch is a car ride–honk the horn and he’ll come running from anywhere. But chasing a coyote trumps all. I didn’t bother trying to call him back, just gathered up the remaining toys and trotted after, listening for howls, snarls, or other doggy celebratory shindigs.
After one call at the edge of the property, here came the oh-so-proud Magical-Dawg (GOOD boy!), tongue dragging the dirt and tail wagging with satisfaction. I handed him his Frisbees, and clipped on the leash. And then he dragged me back over the rest of the 13 acres to track where the coyotes had been, all the while toting those precious toys.
Did I mention the leash really hisses him off?
We adore dogs even though we whine about their behavior. After all, we’re “perfect” owners so why do Max and Fluffy bark at all hours, gnaw the kid’s new shoes, or (gasp!) hump the Pastor’s leg?
While aggravating dog habits make owners show their teeth, clueless humans also raise the dog’s blood pressure. Here’s my latest Paw Nation article about 7 common things you do that make your dog howl. By the way, Gina Misiroglu of Red Room put me in touch with the AOL people, which is one of the great ways in which she’s bringing traffic to Red Room and getting attention for Red Room’s authors.
Okay, I told you mine now you tell me yours—what hisses off your pets?
Woofs & wags,
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