|A photo of the back of Coach's head looking at the wrestlers in the wrestling ring.|
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Wrestling and Whistles and OMG I Met Someone I Had to Just Walk Away From
On Friday I went to see some of the wrestling tournament that was held in the Straz Family Field House on Campus. Unfortunately, I didn't have a program and it was a bit confusing, so I didn't know when our boys were going to wrestle. Evidently there were over 300 wrestlers at the tournament, so it was a really big deal.
It was also a great puppy exposure. Wrestling involves lots of whistles. And flailing around. I guess if you are a wrestler you would argue with me on the flailing part...perhaps I should say a lot of hand holds and Greco-Roman things going on. Add in some grunts and hollers and coaches and fans shouting and clapping and you have yourself a fine exposure for a puppy.
Oh, and there was this, oh how shall I put this? Idiot seems to harsh a word. Willfully disobedient might be a better way to put it. I needed him to be wearing a training collar so I could have given him a good correction!
Anyway, Coach and I had just walked into the wrestling area and were standing there taking it all in. It is rather like a two-ringed circus. There are at least two circles of wrestling going on and there are tons of schools who have decamped to different areas of the bleachers. I don't see our wrestlers anywhere and only see Berkeley shirts on the officials at the table and I don't want to bother them. We have made a bit of a spectacle of ourselves just be walking in. A lot of eyes are upon us. To my right is a group from a school that will remain nameless and on the bottom row of the bleachers is a family who has come to watch their son or daughter (yes, there were girls who were wrestling!) wrestle. They started to talk about Coach.
"Look at that gorgeous dog!"
"Would ya look at the head on him. He's huge." Then, it began. The moment when I needed every bit of my smiling and my public relations training to come out. "Hey, what's he being trained for?"
I turned and looked at the group. There looked to be a grandparent set and a mom and dad perhaps with an older sister. The grandpa was asking me the question. "He's a guide dog in training. We are hoping he will be a guide dog for the blind one day."
"What's his name?"
I hesitated. Why did I hesitate? A couple of years ago, I read the blog of a visually impaired person who said she never gave out the true name of her guide dog because inevitably, the people who had asked for it would then start calling her dog and distracting him. So, she lied. "My dog was named Tim and I would say his name is Delany. They would say "Here Delaney" over and over and then be so amazed by his lack of interest."
Suddenly, it all made sense. Why give out his name? Why do it? But I had hesitated long enough and I wasn't good at lying. I'm the worst liar ever. "Coach. His name is Coach Dominick Ciao after our football coach." I smiled.
Then I looked away willing nothing to happen.
"Hey Coach!" Grandpa called. I turned and looked at grandpa.
"He's supposed to ignore you." That was my super nice way of saying, You are a butthead, quit calling my guide dog by his name!!!
"He's doing a great job!" He laughed. He called out again: "Hey Coach!"
I could take Coach's collar and put it on grandpa and give him a correction or I could walk away.
I walked away.
Grandpa lived to see another wrestling match. Coach got to experience the whistles. It was all good. Now I need to think up a fake name that someone won't want to shout out over the stadium.
What about Booger?