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In the hunting dog world the term ‘pick up dog’ refers to a dog trained to retrieve fallen game, if I remember correctly, shot by someone other than their handler.  My somewhat fuzzy memory also thinks the term is used to refer to the experienced retriever who would go out and retrieve birds that a younger or less experienced dog couldn’t or wouldn’t find and bring back.

Anyway, no bred retrievers or spaniels in my life at present, so no retrieving of game.  Tom says he’s not a retriever, he’s a guide dog, and he doesn’t retrieve.  At all.

But I have trained a pick up dog none the less.  And she’s pretty damn good at it if I do say so.  Both in the fields.  And on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays are kid days at my house.  When the mass of young nieces and nephews arrive for the day.

Zora’s assistance and willingness to be Pick Up Dog is highly valued.

The baby drops her bib somewhere challenging to reach and grab while balancing said baby in one’s arms.  “Zora get it.”

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Zora handing me a red and white child’s bib

Toddler chucks a wooden puzzle piece.  “Zora get it.”

Another one spills blue berries all under the kitchen table.  “Zora get it.”  seriously, she retrieves them, without eating them.  Blueberries, pasta, popcorn, crackers, cereal, carrots, peas, she’ll pick them up and bring them to me.

Crayons, legos, pacifiers, towels, bouncy balls, magnets, blocks, lolly pops.  They drop it, she picks it up and brings it to me.

Have I mentioned how much I love this little dog?  On Wednesdays my back adores her for sure!

 

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