"Pocket where is your ball?" Daddy asks every morning while Mommy is in the shower.
I don't know why he asks me this. If I knew where the ball was I wouldn't be hysterically running around the house looking under every chair, bureau, and couch cushion in the house. Then Daddy gets down on all fours and begins to look under the same things. I don't know why he does this either. I have everything covered at ground level. It's the human's eye view I need.
Daddy is frustrated when he does this. Before we moved, when we played ball, the ball would roll under the hutch or the microwave cabinet (it's actually a liquor cabinet but it was called the microwave cabinet because they stuck a microwave on it so people wouldn't know they are drunks) and Daddy would have to crawl into the dining room to free the ball, while I stood near the ball's location and barked. \
When we moved there was nothing in our ball throwing area that the object of my affection could roll under so Daddy thought he could hurl without consequence. While I enjoyed this at first I must admit I got winded pretty easily. And I missed watching the old man crawl. So I started to nose the ball under things. Then I would stand by my hidden treasure and bark. Daddy would come crawling over and ask how I got the ball under what ever I had hidden it beneath. "She put it there, idiot," Foley would say from inside the warmth of her blanket. Apparently Daddy didn't get the message because a few minutes later he asked me the same thing while trying to stick his hand under the TV stand (which is still a liquor cabinet but they stuck a TV on it saw now it's a TV stand. If we didn't have appliances I would be very concerned my parents have a drinking problem). When breakfast or supper is ready (we always seem to play around dinner time) and Daddy goes to the table I begin to get worried about the ball like that dog who puts his bone in a safe deposit box. Foley says she wouldn't open that box because she doesn't know where the key was kept during the dogs travels.
So, in my worried and agitated condition I nose the ball under something. After supper we all snuggle together and watch our programs. Then it's bed time and we scrunch together and get real comfy. Well, by the time I wake up, I don't have any idea where that ball could be.
I whine, and cry while I search and Daddy soon joins the team. After awhile we find where I have hid it. Daddy pulls out the ball and I bark in excitement. He then picks me up and kneels with me, scratches my ear and calls me a silly little elf, or scratches my chest while I give him a lick and he tells me he loves me then throws the ball while I bark after it and scamper on the hard wood floor.
You know, us finding the ball together, and him picking me up and scratching me and calling me a silly name, that's just about the best time of the day for me: It's all about me and getting attention. Just don 't tell Daddy. I don't want him catching on to my whole nosing the ball under furniture thing.
I don't know why he asks me this. If I knew where the ball was I wouldn't be hysterically running around the house looking under every chair, bureau, and couch cushion in the house. Then Daddy gets down on all fours and begins to look under the same things. I don't know why he does this either. I have everything covered at ground level. It's the human's eye view I need.
Daddy is frustrated when he does this. Before we moved, when we played ball, the ball would roll under the hutch or the microwave cabinet (it's actually a liquor cabinet but it was called the microwave cabinet because they stuck a microwave on it so people wouldn't know they are drunks) and Daddy would have to crawl into the dining room to free the ball, while I stood near the ball's location and barked. \
When we moved there was nothing in our ball throwing area that the object of my affection could roll under so Daddy thought he could hurl without consequence. While I enjoyed this at first I must admit I got winded pretty easily. And I missed watching the old man crawl. So I started to nose the ball under things. Then I would stand by my hidden treasure and bark. Daddy would come crawling over and ask how I got the ball under what ever I had hidden it beneath. "She put it there, idiot," Foley would say from inside the warmth of her blanket. Apparently Daddy didn't get the message because a few minutes later he asked me the same thing while trying to stick his hand under the TV stand (which is still a liquor cabinet but they stuck a TV on it saw now it's a TV stand. If we didn't have appliances I would be very concerned my parents have a drinking problem). When breakfast or supper is ready (we always seem to play around dinner time) and Daddy goes to the table I begin to get worried about the ball like that dog who puts his bone in a safe deposit box. Foley says she wouldn't open that box because she doesn't know where the key was kept during the dogs travels.
So, in my worried and agitated condition I nose the ball under something. After supper we all snuggle together and watch our programs. Then it's bed time and we scrunch together and get real comfy. Well, by the time I wake up, I don't have any idea where that ball could be.
I whine, and cry while I search and Daddy soon joins the team. After awhile we find where I have hid it. Daddy pulls out the ball and I bark in excitement. He then picks me up and kneels with me, scratches my ear and calls me a silly little elf, or scratches my chest while I give him a lick and he tells me he loves me then throws the ball while I bark after it and scamper on the hard wood floor.
You know, us finding the ball together, and him picking me up and scratching me and calling me a silly name, that's just about the best time of the day for me: It's all about me and getting attention. Just don 't tell Daddy. I don't want him catching on to my whole nosing the ball under furniture thing.
That is a very creative way to make your humans feel important and loved. They have such low self esteem without dogs to help them.
ReplyDeleteHow sweet of your dad to help you find your treasures! Keep it up - what a clever way to get him to spend some quality time with you.
ReplyDeleteWe play this game with Dad, too. Isn't fun watching him hunt?
ReplyDelete