Going to the Dogs
Last night I took Jamie, his mother and two local friends to Hove dog stadium to see my dog, Trap in Front run. I call him Crap in Front as the last three times he has run he is fast out of the trap then on the penultimate bend with 50m to go he is crowded out. The trainer and various greyhound experts have given me advice including selling it at a loss, something with my investments I rarely do.
I tend to take a wider view namely that I did not buy the dog as an investment but a bit of fun. It’s a bit like a conversation I had with the editor of the Rust that once I cease to enjoy posting pieces he would receive my letter of resignation. Normally I reserve a table in the front tier but last time we had a disagreeable young drunk next to us. To accommodate 5, we were in the fourth tier and I much preferred that table. We sat in a line, all could see the action and there was no rowdy table alongside.
One drawback of the dogs is that each race is hard to follow. With my improved eyesight I could see alright but the dogs often finish in a huddle and you cannot hear the commentary. It takes a time for the numerous screens to post the winner. The food is basic. Between the five of us we achieved 6 winners yet for all of this it’s always an enjoyable night.
Trap in Front ran in the first race. True to form he was leading with 50m to go was overtaken and finished third. He is still a puppy so the latest solution for his lack of stamina is to rest him for a few weeks. He is graded for a2 races, a high level, so a more long term solution might be to down grade him but you have to convince the handicapper. Hey ho, we all returned to base happier for our time and no one seems to enjoy himself more, resplendent in a pork pie hat looking like a bookie’s runner, than Jamie. It was a long evening for him with adults but at no stage was he bored and behaved a lot better than some of the others in the restaurant.