Balls

Toady likes balls. Squeaky ones, tennis ones, ones that have been run over by the lawn mower, balls of any shape, color, size, or health. He treats them like his babies, taking his favorite of the day outside with him, on the couch, to bed, etc. When he is feeling generous, he will show his love by thrusting his ball into my lap and squishing it against my leg to make it squeak. I am not allowed to touch the ball, or else he removes it from my presence with lightning speed, hoarding it off to some dark corner where he can lick it and hold it, and whisper soothing love-speak into it.

Usually, there is only one favored ball at a time. Generally, the most bedraggled one. But, at times, he faces a dire internal conflict: when two balls that he wants are within a foot of each other. Which one should he take? He will look between them, as if he is a man in love with two women. Unwilling to break the heart of one in choosing the other. Can he take both? He will try, earnestly, to fit both balls into his mouth at once. As if trying to please a wife and mistress as King Henry VIII with Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. His poor heart almost breaking in angst over having to leave one behind (Toady’s—apparently not Henry’s since he divorced Katherine and married Anne). He then realizes that he cannot, unfortunately, have both balls at the same time. He must choose. He must leave a ball behind, to lay lifeless on the lawn, with the elements tormenting its poor rubber heart, until it is brought in the house to heal. But, how could one make such a choice? To decide between two things that are equally dear to your heart? To leave behind a trusted and proven companion to lay forgotten in the grass?

Well, Toady either chooses the one that squeaks, or the one that Mylo wants. Then he runs away and trots happily around the yard. The poor ball that lost out lays taunted by the way he flaunts his affection to the lucky ball that he is relishing with utter devotion and complete adoration.

His biggest conflict in life is having to pick one ball over another. Oh, to be a dog.

It is a love affair that will span the ages.

His obsession started when he was just a wee pup.

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23 thoughts on “Balls

  1. I guess Toady isn’t much with fetching, either, then…. Me neither, Buddy. Mom tries to teach me, but I like to chase the ball and bring it on the couch. If she wanted me to bring it back, she shouldn’t have thrown it n the first place!

    Love and licks,
    Cupcake

  2. Great post, very entertaining! I had a dog named Olive, a black labrador, and out on walks she would find just a piece of some other dog’s tennis ball…the old bald bit of ugly rubber…and carry it, dropping it and flicking it with her nose as if to say “it still works, see?!”

  3. This post is too funny! You are a fabulous storyteller! Would I be correct in saying Toady has been probably been neutered? If that is the case perhaps is love of “balls” or lack of them might explain is current fixation?

  4. That is just so cute! Litchi doesn’t particularly like balls but, if there are any lying around, she feels the need to tidy up? She puts them all together in one pile and then ignores them completely. Wish she’d tidy up the rest of the house 😀

  5. He is so darn cute. My puppy does the same thing with his toys except we can’t get him balls. He chews through and tries to eat them. And then pukes them up. O_o
    We have to buy him kongs. He’s even chewed through those!
    But he tries to pick up multiple toys all the time, like its an excruciating decision. It’s also adorable.

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