esrosedotblog

Booker found a ball on our morning walk today.

Not too unusual that but we were in the dark and staying local, just walking around the big big block.

We were not near the tennis club across the street where he gets most of them.

But there are some tennis courts in the development and I suppose that someone hit the ball out. It had made it all the way up to the lawn/curb.

I was surprised when he found it because it is not a usual occurrence here. Tennis club yes yes. Local courts no. I suppose that people here pick the balls up. They are only just near home. Or something.

So, we were walking with the ball. I was, at first, a little suspicious in that I had not seen the pickup and sometimes there is a bone opportunity along the curb where the trash cans go.

No. It was a ball. Tennis I think. But I was not going to get a view of it. Booker holds the found balls and even the ones at home very close.

We walked and got close to the turn to our house when he demurred and kept on walking. I tried to get him to head home but no soap. We do not argue with this kind of airedale logic. And stubbornness. It would only add two minutes to walk to the real street end.

But he turned. He went to a flower bed against the wall and started digging!

Something new here. Was he burying the ball?

I said "no". My default response to anything new, doggie or otherwise. He backed off and we went on our way to the house.

But about half way down, he headed for another flower bed.

Booker went in and dug a small hole in the leaves and even in the dirt. I let it go.

He pawed it up pretty good. I couldn't see the details but I know there was some dirt and debris flying.

He put the ball into his hole and covered it.

I was stunned.

He has never, in our life with him, done this before.

Somewhere inside, the genes were talking to him.

He buried it totally.

I let it go.

No flowers were hurt during the burying of this ball, I think.

Now. Will he remember? Will he go back and find it? We will have to wait his doggie nature to reassert itself.

Airedales are naturally diggers, terriers. They like digging just for the digging. We have never encouraged it and, frankly, that has been easy because the desert floor does not make it a cinch for a pup to get a hole going. Hard packed, pebbles.

Flower beds are another matter and he knows he is not to even go in them although he has demonstrated, on occasion, that he can walk through one and not touch or trample a single bud or branch.

I have never seen a burying ever before with Booker or with first dog Franklin. Neither have been compulsive diggers anyway.

The occasional dig to make a dirt bed, notwithstanding.

So we can domesticate all we want.

When the chips are down and you feel the urge to bury your trophy, nature will out.

You can fight it but the primitive dog will still make a strong bid for its will.

To say nothing of the Airedales self adopted will.

Nature and nurture working together. If he had not been persistent I would not have seen this happen.

A good lesson, particularly with an airedale. Stick around, let it happen. You might get an entertaining surprise.

Labels: Booker