I have a confession.
For those of you that are my age, you'll understand this comparison: I'm somewhat like Chandler on Friends in the episode, "The One Where Chandler Doesn't Like Dogs." And that episode title kind of sums it up.
It's not exactly that I don't like dogs. It's just that I don't like them in the house. I don't like them touching or licking me. I don't like them barking. I don't like them slobbering or shedding. I don't like them following me or nipping at my heels. So basically, I love them if they're just sitting quietly, looking cute, and keeping to themselves. And cats--well, I flat out just don't like them. But you are truly are so shunned if you admit this--therefore, I realize that I will lose most of my readership here and probably log into facebook and instagram tomorrow to see zero friends and followers.
I learned in my teen years that my cousin Kelly was allergic to cats. For the past eighteen years I've wished over and over that I would develop a small animal allergy, too, just so I would have a valid explanation for not oohing and aahing over everyone's house pets. (Of course I don't really wish I had allergies, and by no means do I intend to belittle or joke about the suffering of those that do have real allergies.)
So, when Cliff came with lots of dogs, I was a little worried. But, they all have their super beefed up dog resort outside, he does all the feeding, watering, and other caring, they never come in the house (minus that time my brother-in-law brought them in, let them sleep in the guest bed, and they they peed all over it) so it works out fine for me. I just get to see their cute faces anytime I go outside, and I can't complain about that.
So, Cliff hunts his dogs quite a bit. Sometimes, he'll even enter competition hunts; a few of which he has actually won. And sometimes, these competition hunts will feature a swim race beforehand.
Cliff's current favorite hunting dog is named Smoke. Cliff loves Smoke so much that it has become an inside joke for us. For example, we'll have a conversation like this:
Cliff: C'mon, I want to take my best girl for ice cream.
Me: Yes! That sounds great.
Cliff: Okay, can you get her leash?
And when we were getting ready for our wedding, we had constant jokes about him marrying Smoke instead of me.
So, when Cliff wanted to enter her into a competitive swim race a few weeks ago, I encouraged him to do so. However, I didn't realize at the time just how serious he was about her winning. (She won a swim race in Illinois this past winter and once he got a little taste of blue ribbon life, he was hooked.)
Two weeks before the race, Smoke started to get special food. All protein. Then a week and a half before the race, Cliff started working her out every night. The first night Cliff and I walked her two miles. After I went in, he secretly tried to run sprints with her, which I witnessed from the kitchen window. After that, he roped my brother and his brother into helping out. We ran her at a jogging pace about four miles that night. We were exhausted, but Smoke wanted more. Eventually, we had her up to six miles and she was running at a good clip. I think she could have competed in the Iditarod and still wanted more. The night before the race, he let her rest and prepare.
So, the big night rolled around. We got the training team plus my mom loaded up to go and cheer. It's a pretty neat event.
There's a large pond.
The dogs are released from that black box on the back side of the pond and swim toward the pole in the front right of the photo. The first one to cross the water finish line gets points and the first one to get to the pole gets points.
The time came, Smoke left the start line and took off.
For those of you that are my age, you'll understand this comparison: I'm somewhat like Chandler on Friends in the episode, "The One Where Chandler Doesn't Like Dogs." And that episode title kind of sums it up.
It's not exactly that I don't like dogs. It's just that I don't like them in the house. I don't like them touching or licking me. I don't like them barking. I don't like them slobbering or shedding. I don't like them following me or nipping at my heels. So basically, I love them if they're just sitting quietly, looking cute, and keeping to themselves. And cats--well, I flat out just don't like them. But you are truly are so shunned if you admit this--therefore, I realize that I will lose most of my readership here and probably log into facebook and instagram tomorrow to see zero friends and followers.
I learned in my teen years that my cousin Kelly was allergic to cats. For the past eighteen years I've wished over and over that I would develop a small animal allergy, too, just so I would have a valid explanation for not oohing and aahing over everyone's house pets. (Of course I don't really wish I had allergies, and by no means do I intend to belittle or joke about the suffering of those that do have real allergies.)
So, when Cliff came with lots of dogs, I was a little worried. But, they all have their super beefed up dog resort outside, he does all the feeding, watering, and other caring, they never come in the house (minus that time my brother-in-law brought them in, let them sleep in the guest bed, and they they peed all over it) so it works out fine for me. I just get to see their cute faces anytime I go outside, and I can't complain about that.
So, Cliff hunts his dogs quite a bit. Sometimes, he'll even enter competition hunts; a few of which he has actually won. And sometimes, these competition hunts will feature a swim race beforehand.
Cliff's current favorite hunting dog is named Smoke. Cliff loves Smoke so much that it has become an inside joke for us. For example, we'll have a conversation like this:
Cliff: C'mon, I want to take my best girl for ice cream.
Me: Yes! That sounds great.
Cliff: Okay, can you get her leash?
And when we were getting ready for our wedding, we had constant jokes about him marrying Smoke instead of me.
So, when Cliff wanted to enter her into a competitive swim race a few weeks ago, I encouraged him to do so. However, I didn't realize at the time just how serious he was about her winning. (She won a swim race in Illinois this past winter and once he got a little taste of blue ribbon life, he was hooked.)
Two weeks before the race, Smoke started to get special food. All protein. Then a week and a half before the race, Cliff started working her out every night. The first night Cliff and I walked her two miles. After I went in, he secretly tried to run sprints with her, which I witnessed from the kitchen window. After that, he roped my brother and his brother into helping out. We ran her at a jogging pace about four miles that night. We were exhausted, but Smoke wanted more. Eventually, we had her up to six miles and she was running at a good clip. I think she could have competed in the Iditarod and still wanted more. The night before the race, he let her rest and prepare.
So, the big night rolled around. We got the training team plus my mom loaded up to go and cheer. It's a pretty neat event.
There's a large pond.
The time came, Smoke left the start line and took off.
And within seconds, it was all over. Smoke's on the left in the picture above. She came in second (you can't really see the first place dog, but he's behind the weeds at the edge of the pond in the middle of the picture).
It was a lot of work for little reward, but once the race was over, Smoke got to play in the water and swim to her little heart's content. So, little reward for us was big reward for her.
And this is a relationship with dogs that I never thought I'd have.
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