Here's one from the TurfNet Archives, a reflection I wrote back in December of 1997 during the era when I still pretended to be a golfer... before the "four hours of frustration and embarrassment" got the best of me and I parked my sticks forever. Memory tells me it was after a trip to Alabama to visit with David Pursell and family to view the early plans for what would become Farmlinks. I can't recall the name of the golf course we played that day, but reading this again reminded me that aside from the shanked shots, forearm shivvers and lost golf balls, there were many times that I did have fun playing golf.

"We were walking up the first fairway to strategize our second shots, wary of the pond that snuggled up to the right edge of the green and swept behind it to the second tee. (I tend to take particular note of water hazards, for if they are 10 yards or 150 yards away, I'm there, like a magnet.) While gazing over the pond, I noticed two black objects moving through the water. Muskrats? Beavers? Nope, just the heads of two Black Labradors enjoying a swim on a sunny fall day

Our host mentioned, "There's a third one over there, staring at something in the bank of the pond. Probably a water moccasin in there." I made a mental note to bag my ball retriever for the day.

The two groups behind us were from the local college golf team. Part of the routine during their rounds was throwing sticks to the dogs, who dutifully followed them around the course, having a ball.

After putting out on the fifth or sixth green, we walked back to our cart to find a small dog sitting on the floorboard, patiently waiting for a lift. Hmmm... who's this little guy? A mixed Terrier of sorts, fairly well groomed, with a collar and flea collar. Obviously not a stray, but there weren't any homes nearby either, so we figured he was just a golf course dog, doing his thing. He seemed OK with hitching a ride to the next tee with us, so off we went, dog in tow, for the next several holes.

Stopping by the maintenance facility on 9, we saw the superintendent had another dog with him, a 3-legged Chocolate Lab who didn't seem to know the difference. "Truck ran over her leg," he advised. "She's my buddy."

"Who's the little one riding with us?" we inquired. "Oh, that's Gus. He's a good guy, too."

Gus didn't seem motivated by much, content just to squeeze between us and get his head scratched.

Gus didn't seem motivated by much, content just to squeeze between us and get his head scratched...

Thirsty, Gus? How 'bout a sip of beer?

"No, thanks," which simply amazed me. I had a dog once who could get her tongue about three inches down the neck of a dead soldier. 

"How about a potato chip?" Nope. Gus wasn't thirsty or hungry. At least not for beer and chips. Probably didnt smoke cigars, either.

The only thing that seemed to motivate Gus was an opportunity to tree a squirrel, which he did rather noisily, and with abandon.

I had never seen a ten pound dog leap four feet in the air before, but Gus could do it. A couple times when Gus was off squirreling, we moved on and thought we left him behind, only to find him back on the cart after the next hole or so. Cool dog.

The back nine meandered along the lakefront, which was spectacular as the sun was getting low in the sky that day. Darkness was approaching as we arrived at the 18th tee. Gus was doing his squirrel thing off to the left. His golf etiquette at that point could have used some polishing up, knowing well enough to settle down when there were golfers on the tee and a wager hanging in the balance.

Heading up the 18th fairway, we noticed the three Black Labradors walking up the cart path toward the clubhouse, their swimming and stick-chasing done for another day. After the last putt dropped and the grill room beckoned us, there they were, stretched out on the clubhouse deck: three Labradors and Gus, patiently waiting for their dinner.

After the last putt dropped and the grill room beckoned us, there they were, stretched out on the clubhouse deck: three Labradors and Gus, patiently waiting for their dinner... 

We hear so much about woodpeckers, bluebirds, foxes and other exotic wildlife on the golf course, sometimes we don't have to look that far to find animals enhancing the golf experience.

At one point during the day, I asked Gus what his full name was, not really expecting an answer. We decided it must be Augusta... because he's a golf course dog."