The Possible

Right now, it is basics. Come. Down. Mabel. Fetch. More fetch.

Never too much fetch with a setter. 

I think I can see it burning there. But then she doesn’t listen, turns the other way, does not even raise her head from a pile of fresh horseshit when I double-tap the whistle. Could she possibly be deaf? No, here she comes running like a bat of out hell right into my shins. 

So we play fetch and play-fetch. Dabble around the water. Follow the older dogs into the field. Kennel up. Remove socks and sandals and shoes from the clamp of needle-tooth. Play fetch some more. A routine of walking. Kennel time. Leash time. Fetch. More fetch. Crate. Meet other dogs. Puppies. Children. Picnics. People. Socialize. And play fetch some more.

There’s a new bird dog in the making and a new season out in front of her nose. Welcome to my world, Mabel. 



Author: Tom Reed

Four English setters tell me what to do.

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