Sunday May 26th

I've had an on/off friendship with Brody this week. Thursday was definitely an off day. It'd been going so well, up until the afternoon. I'd decided to take him out on grass instead of the beach, wanting to avoid families on holiday. On the stretch of grass where we walk, there are two shelters. I'd been throwing the ball for Brody and had just told him 'game over', which is usually the cue for him to stop prancing around our feet waiting for the ball, or to stop nudging our hand with the ball in his mouth. In this instance, it was his cue to go darting off toward one of the shelters. I could see 2 bicycles leaning against the wall, and could vaguely make out a couple of people inside. "This way Brody" I call, which usually makes him curve round and head back to me. But not this time. Straight into the shelter he went and jumped up on people inside. It was at this point that I ascertained two things : 1) the people inside had food; 2) from the high-pitched scream that emanated there was a small child there also. I ran towards the shelter calling Brody's name, watching the people inside stand up and try to push Brody away as he continued to jump up on them, trying to grab the sandwiches from their hands. When I got to the shelter I could see that the child was just a baby of about 10months propped up on the bench between her mum and dad, screaming hysterically. I managed to grab Brody and put his lead on, apologising profusely to the family and making sure the baby was ok. Lots of telling off for Brody and the silent treatment from me for him for the rest of the day. How to spoil the day for many people. Long lead on walks from now on I think.

This week we have been mostly....losing things. Last Sunday Steve had the complete misfortune of having  his rucksack 'stolen'. He'd taken Brody for a walk, and was putting him back into the car. He put his rucksack on the floor to shut the boot, got distracted, then got in the car and drove off. On the way home, had sudden flashback to said rucksack on the floor, so u-turned and went back. In the 5 mins he was away, the rucksack had been taken. Now this was in a car park of an area well known for dog-walkers and lovers of beach air, surely the honest, well-meaning type? Perhaps not. In the rucksack was Steve's sunglasses, waterproof jacket, brand new dog lead, and ball thrower. A sign was put up and the police alerted, but nothing. On the Tuesday morning, I was driving along after school drop-off when in the opposite direction there comes a male cyclist wearing a rather familiar looking jacket and on his back a rather familiar rucksack. Now, I'm sure there's quite a few red jackets and silver rucksacks out there, but on the other hand...Well, I didn't about turn and race after him a la Starsky and Hutch mainly because that didn't really cross my mind at the time and I'm sure a bicycle tyre mark across the length of my body wouldn't have been a good look (not many people like to be falsely accused of theft).

Anyway, I was left with a frisbee and a tennis ball to entertain Brody on the beach. Off we go on our morning walk, down the steps onto the beach, oh I know, a few throws of the frisbee onto the rocks will be good for starters, Brody loves climbing over rocks. Off it goes up up into the air, down down behind some rocks, Brody bounding excitedly after it, leaping over the big rocks, disappearing out of sight. Just wait for him to reappear....just a few more seconds.....where is he? "Brody, fetch frisbee!" Nothing. "Brody, where are you?" Nothing. Slight panic. Start climbing over the rocks when a little head pops over the top of one - minus the frisbee. "Where is it, Brody?" I reach the spot where he is frantically pacing round, tail wagging furiously. It is the deepest rockpool in the world, and there at the bottom staring up at us frustratingly unattainable unless you're equipped with full diving gear, is the frisbee. Brody launches himself in with a huge splash, which I must admit I'm quite impressed by seeing as a) he hasn't always liked the water, and b) even though it is deep, this rockpool is not wide, so immediately upon entering, his nose smacks against the rock. He does this a couple of times, but I don't think dogs are able to nosedive about 6ft under are they? He just assumes by jumping in and swimming round in tiny circles that he'd be able to reach the frisbee. We have to leave it there. While walking away, Brody keeps looking at me expectantly - where's the frisbee mum, go and get it then. I start looking back over my shoulder to see if I can grab some poor unsuspecting surfer as he races down the steps and along the beach to get into the sea as quickly as possible (by the way, why do surfers always run on dry land? The waves will still be there in 2 mins time). Well, if they're going to get wet anyway and they're dressed for it, why can't they help me get the frisbee? However, I discard this idea and just try to get Brody to run around on his own for a bit.

The next morning (Wednesday), we go back to the same beach with a tennis ball. We start making our way down the many steps to the beach, Brody with the ball in his mouth, when he decides half-way down should be the place to drop the ball. It all happened in slow motion. Ball dropping from his mouth, bouncing a few times perilously close to the edge of the high steps with the drop of the rocks down to the beach below. Off it rolls....plop, over the edge onto a grassy shelf at the top of the rocks below. I look through the railings in despair and stare at the ball sat snuggled comfortably in the grass. Brody pops his head through the railings and stares at it too. Well, it is possible, we could climb up the rocks from the beach to reach it. So down we go, and start climbing up. Brody races up in a matter of seconds and stands in the grassy ledge with the ball in his mouth. "Good boy Brody", I say from below, balancing on a slippy mossy rock, "bring it here then!". Brody wags his tail, drops the ball back on the grass, and runs back down the rocks. "No Brody, go find the ball!" He looks at me questioningly, as if to say "You know where the ball is, you just saw me with it, it's just up there", and he points with his nose. Ok, I'll get it then. He follows me right at my heels, almost tripping me on my way up and back down. I also retrace our steps from the day before, and go back to the rock pool, but the frisbee is no longer there, and there's no sign of it being washed out further up the rocks by the tide. Oh well, that's that then. Need to purchase a new frisbee.