Updated from
http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/367.html
Bob the dog is sick.
This is Bob. The dog who lives at the house where we are staying in Glengarrif
He was the first to greet us as we rolled up to our AirBnB on the Beara Peninsula. We were barely off the motorcycles, bags in hand, walking to the front door of the house when this cute, playful dog bounded up to us, with his well-loved, partially deflated soccer ball clamped firmly in his mouth. He then dropped the ball at our feet.
I know this game! I set my bags down on the driveway and picked up the ball. Ick, it was slimey with drool. I threw it across the front lawn. Our host dog sprinted out to fetch it and came back immediately, dropping the soccer ball at my feet again. Fun! I kicked the soccer ball down the yard again and picked up my bags. But in an instant, the ball reappeared at my feet. "We gotta check in, doggie! We'll play later!"
The dog seemed not to hear me and stared insistently at the ball.
I'm a sucker for playing with dogs and kids, so while Neda checks in, I do a few more rounds of kick and fetch.
After pulling myself away from the dog, I walk inside and introduce myself to our AirBnB host, Brid, apologizing for coming inside a bit later than Neda: "I was outside with your dog. He's so playful!"
"Oh, that's Bob. He's a bit... obsessed with that ball." She said it in such a way that didn't sound very positive.
Oh. Ok. *shrug* Owners sometimes get tired of playing with their dogs. I get it.
We're booked in Glengarriff for a couple of days. We've just about completed our tour of the western peninsulas of Ireland, so we're going to rest up before we head off the island. It's so idyllic on the Beara Peninsula. The BnB is so cozy, our host is very friendly, the countryside surroundings are idyllic, and we get to play with Bob, the dog!
Neda plays kick and fetch with Bob. Again. And again. And again. And again.
We start to notice that there's something terribly wrong with Bob.
He doesn't look at us when we're playing with him. He didn't care about being petted or talked to. Absolutely no acknowledgement in his eyes. He just stares at the soccer ball. But worse of all, he doesn't stop. He's obviously exhausted from running back and forth in the front yard, chasing after his soccer ball. Tongue hanging long out of his mouth. Panting like a marathon runner at the end of the race, he keeps fetching and running, fetching and running. His tail doesn't wag. The whites of his eyes are like half-crescents, signalling distress. Most dogs we know would lose interest, call it off and saunter away. Not Bob. If we didn't stop the "game", he would have collapsed and died of exhaustion. Seriously.
I now know why Brid doesn't play fetch with him anymore. It was very obvious that Bob the dog was mentally ill.
We love dogs so much and it was heartbreaking to see an animal develop such a mania. There was no joy in him playing fetch. It was purely an obsessive-compulsive drive. I've never seen anything like this before in a dog.
Brid rescues animals that she finds in the area. She's got cats, dogs even a sheep that lives on the property. We talked a bit about Bob and she feels just as bad as we do. But he lives a good life and is well-cared for, despite the one-sided relationship.
