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My weirdly satisfying new hobby.
I take Shadeaux for at least one walk nearly every day. Most days we go for two walks. Our route has become almost invariable - we do a loop through the nearby Paco Sanchez Park, walking right along Lakewood Gulch Creek. Shadeaux is off-leash for long segments of the walk, usually in the creek.
Paco Sanchez Park is home to a disc golf park which, instead of sand traps, is trapped with the "W" light-rail line & Lakewood Gulch Creek. We see disc golfers nearly every day, now that the weather has warmed up. We also see them fishing around in the creek for wayward discs on a pretty frequent basis.
Since Shadeaux is a pretty good fetcher, & she's usually in the creek anyway, I've taught her to retrieve these lost discs from the creek. It's harder than you might think, because the discs are made of a solid rubbery plastic & they sink. So she has to get them off the bottom of the creek. But she's gotten quite good at it. I see a disc golfer fretting on the banks, call over & ask if they've lost a disc, then offer Shadeaux's help. I throw rocks into the creek as close to the disc as I can manage, & usually after three or four tries, Shadeaux picks up the disc & brings it to me. Then I throw it back to the disc golf dudebro. Everybody's happy!
Today Shadeaux rescued her fifteenth disc! Golfing discs cost about $15-20 apiece, so she's saved our neighborhood golfers somewhere between $225 & $300 in replacement disc expenses. And she's becoming somewhat known! The other day we saw a familiar quartet of golfers. They had lost two discs in the creek a couple of weeks ago, & Shadeaux had gotten them both out. One of them waved & then shook his friend's arm: "Over there! That's the dog I told you about!" Then he shouted to me, "Has she gotten any more?" I shouted back her total count at the time & he fist-punched the sky.
Weirdly. Satisfying.
Paco Sanchez Park is home to a disc golf park which, instead of sand traps, is trapped with the "W" light-rail line & Lakewood Gulch Creek. We see disc golfers nearly every day, now that the weather has warmed up. We also see them fishing around in the creek for wayward discs on a pretty frequent basis.
Since Shadeaux is a pretty good fetcher, & she's usually in the creek anyway, I've taught her to retrieve these lost discs from the creek. It's harder than you might think, because the discs are made of a solid rubbery plastic & they sink. So she has to get them off the bottom of the creek. But she's gotten quite good at it. I see a disc golfer fretting on the banks, call over & ask if they've lost a disc, then offer Shadeaux's help. I throw rocks into the creek as close to the disc as I can manage, & usually after three or four tries, Shadeaux picks up the disc & brings it to me. Then I throw it back to the disc golf dudebro. Everybody's happy!
Today Shadeaux rescued her fifteenth disc! Golfing discs cost about $15-20 apiece, so she's saved our neighborhood golfers somewhere between $225 & $300 in replacement disc expenses. And she's becoming somewhat known! The other day we saw a familiar quartet of golfers. They had lost two discs in the creek a couple of weeks ago, & Shadeaux had gotten them both out. One of them waved & then shook his friend's arm: "Over there! That's the dog I told you about!" Then he shouted to me, "Has she gotten any more?" I shouted back her total count at the time & he fist-punched the sky.
Weirdly. Satisfying.
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You trained your dog to perform a useful trick that contributes to the happiness of neighbors and community. That should be satisfying for you!
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(She's up to sixteen as of last weekend. Not that I'm counting.)
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Either way, good on you and Startled-By-Farts for contributing to society. This is much better than that time
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So could Google. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disc_golf
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(Anonymous) 2015-04-16 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)Disc golf (dolf, also known as gisc) was a fourteeth-century invention of a rounded, flying blade used to decapitate fleeing peasant rebels. Ideally, one's servant would keep pace with the morale-broken serf, and when the dolf severed the noggin of the unruly bootlicker, one's man-at-arms would deftly scoop the removed head right from the air, using a basket made of a rim and chains. Nowadays, granola-munchers everywhere celebrate the arrival of spring by reenacting the ritual with a plastic gisc and more stationary chain baskets.
The dog, then as now, is optional.
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If she's going to be a neighborhood legend, she needs to OWN IT.
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