by Peggy Zortman

THE GAME OF GOLF

There once was a dog name of Chase.                       

He studied the whole human race.                 

A dog’s point of view?                                                

They haven’t a clue.                                                    

Take golf – that’s a total disgrace!                      

Chase Here – Former Shelter Dog reporting

A while back I joined Mister and Missus on a vacation. Our temporary home was okay – I could watch squirrels from a big deck, but I soon found a better location. A line of trees and bushes formed a border between our house and a beautiful green field. 

”Off limits,” warned Mister. “That’s a golf course. No dogs allowed!” What a waste of a beautiful Frisbee field I thought.

Not knowing what a golf course might be, I settled down to find out. A break in the line of trees gave me a perfect view of the fairway (That’s what Mister called it.) I heard a thwack somewhere to my left and it wasn’t long before a little white ball fell from the sky and landed on the fairway.

I kept watching and a group of people came into view. They were riding in a funny little car on the paved driveway that ran between my trees and the fairway. “It’s a golf cart,” said Mister. He told me they carry bags full of golf clubs on the cart. They find their little white balls (golf balls Mister called them) chose the proper club and hit the ball again trying to get it on the green (a pretty patch of short grass up on the hill). It’s even better if it drops right into the hole at the bottom of that pole on the green.

I wondered…Why? Why do they play the game of golf? Mister explained there are many reasons: Some folks like being outside (I can understand that), some like being with friends (I understand that), some like the competition (The what?) and some want the exercise (Then why do they ride in carts?) I don’t understand humans.

The week went by and we had a lot of adventures. We even watched something called THE MASTERS on TV…but that game wasn’t anything like the game I’d been watching. 

Each day Mister would take me out to my place on the lawn and while he cooked I learned about the game of golf…and I came up a plan.

The last afternoon of our vacation finally arrived. As usual Mister was cooking and I was watching when I heard the now familiar thwack and watched a golf ball fall from the sky to land with a plunk and roll toward me stopping under a bush…I waited. 

Thwack!  Another white ball fell from the sky. This one stayed put somewhere around the middle of the fairway…I waited. 

Thwack! And yet another little white ball fell to the ground this one landing to my right and settling into that big sandbox…I waited. 

Thwack! There’s another one. I saw it fall. It made a splash in the pretty pond on the other side of the field…scared a big bird nearly to death and probably chased away his fish dinner…I waited.

Nothing else fell from the sky and I could hear voices and laughter coming from my left. Amused and puzzled I watched as four grown human men hunted for those little white balls. 

Now I’ve observed that the human race has no real sense of smell. They struggle when something is lost. These men were no exception. Only one man seemed happy about finding his ball. One walked dejectedly to the sandbox (Missus says it’s a sand trap) and the one who said his ball sliced might need a fishing rod. (Sliced? Really? I didn’t see any pieces fall.)

The fourth golfer spied us and walked our way. He stopped to scratch my ears and smiling, asked Mister, “By chance your dog isn’t trained to retrieve golf balls is he?” 

 “Sorry, no he isn’t,” Mister replied with a grin.

“Too bad; there could be money in it,” said the nice man. With that he scratched my ears again and laughing turned and walked back to the field. His ball remained hidden under the bush in front of me.

About that time Mister announced lunch was ready. Time to set my plan in motion…I waited. 

Missus took our lunch to the big deck and Mister came to get me…I waited. 

He reached down, released my tether – and I leapt into action.

I grabbed the hidden ball, hightailed it to the hole under the flag, dropped it in and sat down to await the praise I was sure was coming. It didn’t.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I don’t understand humans! 

This game of golf should be simple: Hit-a-ball-and-chase-it. Hit-a-ball-and-chase-it. Or why not just carry it up and drop it in the hole if that’s better. I don’t understand their game of golf. 

But wait…there may be hope…Missus just told me there’s a game they call Frisbee Golf. I wonder if dogs can play?

This is Chase signing out.