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!”
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