He's changed my thinking a bit.
Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 9:49 am
It's that time.
The time when things start to knit together.
Bob now eight months old is finally starting to fill out. We've had a ball over the last six months, playing, fetching tennis balls and shedding hours of love and lunacy. I as usual have been occasionally pushing and expecting the impossible then pulling back once I have realised the poor lad was just getting confused. After all its only me in this partnership who knows what the end results should be and only having one lab at a time I forget the present one is an empty book, constantly thinking to myself 'well the last one didn't do that'.
It's been a joy watching him grow. Seeing those little signs of what's to come. Encouraging the traits he discovers naturally and keeping the bad habits at bay. It was just a few weeks ago he began winding a thrown ball. To see him bound off in the general direction of my signal and then almost jump in shock as he picked up the scent over his left shoulder then comically stalking the air to his goal was priceless.
Bob wasn't what I was looking for to be honest. I am a lab man and this was to be my third shooting partner, the first of witch arrived over twenty five years ago. After the decision to start again ( it had been two years) I began sending feelers out to see what was available. It wasn't until a phone call from an old friend of mine that I'd even been to look at a dog but this was to begin a series of events, fate or whatever it was that led me to him.
My old pal had been a farmer, game keeper, scrap man and many other things in between and had always kept at least half a dozen hounds of one ilk or another. His phone call prompted a visit. Not strait away but a few weeks later I found myself at his yard, a collection of steel cabins and junk perched in the corner of a rough field at the back of his end terrace.
"She's ad one up er" I was greeted with. His black lab bitch sat in her pen with a guilty look about her. "Sorry". That sod over there. One of these bu@@ers as pupped her. He arched his hand over the other kennels where a collection of bright, over enthusiastic and rather noisy dogs shouted their approval. A springer, two pointers, a collie and 'the beast' all sat to attention as Jack lifted his arm and sang out Yhuuuup!
It seemed he was going to be the owner of several labra somethings, shockingly when I asked their fate he just shrugged his shoulder and muttered "well I've got a bucket of water". I don't think for one moment he could have done it and knowing his good lady he would have been walking with a distinct limp if she even suspected he'd thought it.
Er, I'm looking for a dog. I cringed as soon as the words slipped out but a month later I was back in his kitchen amongst a litter of daftness picking out something that resembled a gun dog.
You'll never get that to bring one in he barked. Not for love nor money. Not a chance. Nar. Each one I picked up he removed his pipe from the corner of his mouth and gave his or should I say delivered his verdict. The collection where quite Labrador like. Black, with the occasional hint of brindle or a white fleck. Short coats and reasonably well shaped but by their large ears and long thin tails it looked like it was one of the pointers had been the mothers visitor. One particular dog drew my attention. Not sure what or why but he was quite a bit smaller than the others. "Not while you've got an ole in your"...... His mrs came in. " hello babies".
Eventually the deed was done and Bob became the new resident at let's ruin the baby towers.
I must say my attitude has changed over the months. I suppose I was something of a dog snob before Bob. I could never grasp the reasoning behind a vimardoodle or a colliedore but bringing on this little rat bag has made me think. Without the St Johns water dog or a few potty lords breeding the first labs we may still be using just about anything available to hunt or retrieve.
I'm not saying its a breeze with Bob. I am the first to agree he hasn't got what I would call a Lab brain but its early days and he supprises me at every turn. The truth is I wouldn't swap him for the world now and who knows my hole might just heal up.
The time when things start to knit together.
Bob now eight months old is finally starting to fill out. We've had a ball over the last six months, playing, fetching tennis balls and shedding hours of love and lunacy. I as usual have been occasionally pushing and expecting the impossible then pulling back once I have realised the poor lad was just getting confused. After all its only me in this partnership who knows what the end results should be and only having one lab at a time I forget the present one is an empty book, constantly thinking to myself 'well the last one didn't do that'.
It's been a joy watching him grow. Seeing those little signs of what's to come. Encouraging the traits he discovers naturally and keeping the bad habits at bay. It was just a few weeks ago he began winding a thrown ball. To see him bound off in the general direction of my signal and then almost jump in shock as he picked up the scent over his left shoulder then comically stalking the air to his goal was priceless.
Bob wasn't what I was looking for to be honest. I am a lab man and this was to be my third shooting partner, the first of witch arrived over twenty five years ago. After the decision to start again ( it had been two years) I began sending feelers out to see what was available. It wasn't until a phone call from an old friend of mine that I'd even been to look at a dog but this was to begin a series of events, fate or whatever it was that led me to him.
My old pal had been a farmer, game keeper, scrap man and many other things in between and had always kept at least half a dozen hounds of one ilk or another. His phone call prompted a visit. Not strait away but a few weeks later I found myself at his yard, a collection of steel cabins and junk perched in the corner of a rough field at the back of his end terrace.
"She's ad one up er" I was greeted with. His black lab bitch sat in her pen with a guilty look about her. "Sorry". That sod over there. One of these bu@@ers as pupped her. He arched his hand over the other kennels where a collection of bright, over enthusiastic and rather noisy dogs shouted their approval. A springer, two pointers, a collie and 'the beast' all sat to attention as Jack lifted his arm and sang out Yhuuuup!
It seemed he was going to be the owner of several labra somethings, shockingly when I asked their fate he just shrugged his shoulder and muttered "well I've got a bucket of water". I don't think for one moment he could have done it and knowing his good lady he would have been walking with a distinct limp if she even suspected he'd thought it.
Er, I'm looking for a dog. I cringed as soon as the words slipped out but a month later I was back in his kitchen amongst a litter of daftness picking out something that resembled a gun dog.
You'll never get that to bring one in he barked. Not for love nor money. Not a chance. Nar. Each one I picked up he removed his pipe from the corner of his mouth and gave his or should I say delivered his verdict. The collection where quite Labrador like. Black, with the occasional hint of brindle or a white fleck. Short coats and reasonably well shaped but by their large ears and long thin tails it looked like it was one of the pointers had been the mothers visitor. One particular dog drew my attention. Not sure what or why but he was quite a bit smaller than the others. "Not while you've got an ole in your"...... His mrs came in. " hello babies".
Eventually the deed was done and Bob became the new resident at let's ruin the baby towers.
I must say my attitude has changed over the months. I suppose I was something of a dog snob before Bob. I could never grasp the reasoning behind a vimardoodle or a colliedore but bringing on this little rat bag has made me think. Without the St Johns water dog or a few potty lords breeding the first labs we may still be using just about anything available to hunt or retrieve.
I'm not saying its a breeze with Bob. I am the first to agree he hasn't got what I would call a Lab brain but its early days and he supprises me at every turn. The truth is I wouldn't swap him for the world now and who knows my hole might just heal up.
Nice one BigE , I like it !
I actually managed a photo of the long streaky thing the other day so I have an excuse to post. After reading the first few pages of general posts I think Bob has suffered just about every foible mentioned at one point or another. His favorite was the figure of eight hare coursing wall of death but it seems to be ebbing now. The truth is I cant ever remember seeing such a young dog for his age. Sounds daft I know but he still thinks he is a baby in everything he does. Not that it matters, we have all the time in the world and the last thing either of us wants is to turn things into a chore. Hes had a few trips down to the clay club car park and doesn't mind the clatter. And his hunting skills are the stuff of legend. Well at least comedy legend.