Dear Kid,
I am watching a dog competition. Not a beauty competition like Westminster, but the “agility/racing/disk catching/don’t really care what your pedigree is” kind of competition. (I like Westminster, but that’s not what’s on right now.)
Watching these dogs, some of whom are rescue babies, is really fun. Although I cannot even begin to imagine undertaking the kind of rigor and training these families go through. They practice, they travel to competitions, they practice, they train, they… you get the idea.
When did the word “Frisbee” change to “flying disk”? According to the broadcasters, the disks play to the dog’s instincts to go after a bird and catch it. Which means there is no way Booker will be great at the sport, since he thinks birds are there to ignore. So unless there is food involved, there is a limit to how much Frisbee-catching he’ll be willing to do. With the amount of practice it would take for him to compete at this kind of a level, he’d double his weight in no time.
I wonder who practices more: some of these doggies or college athletes? I am not even going to speculate.
The video of the small dog agility is eight minutes long—which I understand is long for a blog. On the flip side, it is nothing compared to the hours of sports I know you are going to watch today. (Soccer this afternoon, Stanley Cup tonight, and who knows what else in between.)
As fun as this looks (for the trainer and the puppies), I can’t imagine trying to seriously train Booker for agility competition. If nothing else, I think his body shape might not be entirely ideal (his front end would have to wait for his back end to catch up). Most of these dogs begin their training when they are wee little puppies, which means we’ve missed the window (by about 8 years).
So he’s not an elite athlete (I’m not either). He’s ours and I love him (you’re ours and I love you too).
Woof.
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