In my four and half months out in the world, I have learned many things and had a ton of experiences, but the thing that has rocked my world more than anything, is a simple little object called a ball. Initially, T kicking a round object in the yard seemed an odd behaviour. I watched. She did it again. I watched again, probably with that head tilt she finds so endearing. And then, because I like her so much, I decided to participate in her little game and run toward the ball she’d kicked.
Oh. My. That was kind of fun. Three days later I was chasing madly after anything ball shaped, no matter the size, how far it went, how tired I was, or how much blood was in the snow. Yes, there was blood. The worst thing about the blood was that it made the game stop. No! I’m fine! Throw it again! It’s just a flesh wound!
So, after two years of not knowing what a ball even was, I have become bonkers for balls, a slave to the sphere, a glutton for globes, orb obsessed. In short: I. Love. Balls.
To give you an idea of just how far down this path of obsession I’ve travelled, yesterday I flushed a rabbit out of a clump of tall grass in the pasture, a rabbit I’ve been seeing since one of my very first walks at the farm. This was the first time we’d seen him when I was off leash. The challenge was, I’d flushed the rabbit while running after a ball T had thrown. As exciting as that explosion of white fur was, I was torn. Ball? Rabbit? I couldn’t get both.
Don’t worry, I’m not completely ball bonkers … I chased the rabbit. But not far. When I reached our north fence line and the rabbit was becoming a white spot in the distance, I decided the ball was a much better goal, and returned to find it. And did, of course.
The dog park in Strathmore is a ton of fun because my people aren’t the only ones throwing balls. The hitch is that each of these people comes with a ball-crazy canine like me, who will be as likely to steal my ball as chase their own. I’m pretty fast, and can usually beat them all to the ball, but the last time we visited, there was a dog there that turned into a blur when the ball was thrown. Holy wow, could she move. I had my first eating-dust experience. Can’t say I loved it. Fortunately, she didn’t run off with my ball like some of the other dogs do, but brought it right back to N for another throw. Smart girl. I learned early on that bringing the ball back to the thrower is the best way to keep the game going.
Up until this last week, there’s always been a patch of ice or snow to cool off in during my ball-chasing sessions, but that refreshment is quickly disappearing with the onset of spring. My best cool-down technique is to froggy-leg it on the snow, cooling off my whole undercarriage. Works like a charm.
I’m not actually a big fan of snow in general, but it sure does come in handy after a spherically challenging trip to the park or back pasture!
the Fur-iday Files 