I am alert and ready for anything. Throw me a stick, a ball or even a shoe and I will retrieve it forthwith. My ears perk up and my forehead creases and I am at our service. The Boss loves it when I look like this and he knows I will retrieve anything he wishes including pheasants, duck, geese, and any other edible fowl. However, at the moment they are all out of season so I am reduced to fetching balls and sticks whether they be on land, sea or lake.
If the Mrs looks out of the window first thing in the morning and sees the mist and rain she will reject her normal walk to the lake and find my favourite squeezy squeaky orange ball from the cupboard along with her trusty ancient wooden tennis racquet and practice her forearm smashes with me. She informs me I make the best ball boy ever and I get a pat and kind word every time I return my squeaky ball to her. I am sometimes reluctant to give it up and feel the need to squeeze it several times to experience the squeaky squeaks before allowing her to set up another volley. I admit the tennis ball which is furry and soft in my mouth goes much further when she gives it her best serve but it does not have the squeezable squeak that my orange ball does when I retrieve it. I really prefer my orange ball but the Mrs sometimes gets quite cross if I do not relinquish my prize to her immediately and she has to test it to make sure I have not ruined the squeaker. Just when I am getting into this match the Mrs loses her competitive streak, if it ever existed, and is easily distracted. As soon as the Boss calls that breakfast is ready she immediately says tennis is over, washes and returns my orange squeaker ball to the cupboard and heads indoors and I think “you cannot be serious!”