How many times has Cathy, Tim, and everyone for that matter, told me to stay on top of that little dog? I slipped just a bit and that darn spaniel was off and running on a hot July evening at Keswick Park.
I'd taken him to the ball field for some multiple retrieves. Larsen went out to the first and pretended not to find it. He trotted around back and forth and with each pass got further into the weeds until he darted through the brambles and toward the junkyard at the top of the bluff overlooking the park.
It seems he flushed something, although I'm not sure what it was. He didn't return for a solid 10 minutes and I was upset and probably as hot as he was. I corrected him harshly and tossed him into his crate in the back of the car and watered him. After a short while, I let him out and we went under a tree to cool some more. I wet him down and watched his tongue.
When finally he cooled - - I really had not - - I led him to the ball field and made him fetch the dummies that had laid there for the past half hour. He trudged out to each and brought them to hand.
Then we left.
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