All you have to say it “Go get your ball” and she’s off the the races. When she gets it, you’d better look out. She’s a beast on the field.
If you have the ball and she wants it, she’ll get it. Two arms full of scratches prove that.
If she has the ball and you want it, you’ll have to earn it. Her grip is tight, her teeth are sharp and she rarely fumbles.
When she comes at you, with or without the ball, it’s smart to protect yourself. Like Sully said during the flight he landed on the Hudson River, “Brace for impact.”
She doesn’t slow down and when she hits you, you know it.
A couple of times she barreled into me from the side, catching my knee. I have felt it buckle and thought I was about to suffer a career-ending injury. Luckily it’s never been that bad — yet. But I keep the phone number for 911 handy just in case.
You’d laugh if you got hit by an 85-pound football player. For some reason, you cry when it’s an 85-pound bloodhound with a full head of steam — and drool.
After the Green Bay Packers won their Sunday night game, we celebrated by having Daisy wear a Packers jersey with Bart Starr’s number on Monday afternoon.
“Bark Starr,” one of my Wisconsin friends called her on Facebook.
We are Packers shareholders, and being part owners of the NFL’s most successful franchise of all-time— with 13 championships — we figured it was time to let Daisy Duke in on the fun.
You might recall how well it went when we bought Daisy Duke a sweater a couple of months ago. She hated it.
The football jersey seemed to be much more tolerable, especially when we got her running in the yard. She stopped only a few times to try to rip it off, but for the most part she played and jumped and performed her usual wild antics, which almost always include running around with something she’s not supposed to have in her mouth.
This time it was a tray usually kept under a flower pot. Somehow, she slipped the tray out without disturbing the flower. She’s a real Houdini, sometimes.
Daisy Duke has never met a stranger and she made some new friends on a recent visit to PetSmart. We stopped to get a new toy or bone after she was particularly good on an afternoon trip downtown that included two stops — one at the vet and another at the Johnson City Press office, where she is always greeted warmly.
As we were checking out at the store, a woman began to pet her. I praised her for behaving. “Good girl, Daisy Duke,” I said.
The woman stopped petting and stepped back.
“Is this the Daisy Duke?” she said.
I played dumb, figuring I knew where she was going with the conversation. “What do you mean?” I said.
“There’s a Daisy in the Johnson City Press all the time,” she answered.
When I ’fessed up and said this was, indeed, that Daisy, she became even more friendly.
As she resumed petting, she said “You’re famous, Daisy Duke!”
Daisy took it all in stride, preferring to enjoy the treat the cashier had given her.
Apparently, for Daisy Duke, food is more important than fame.