If I Don’t Know, How Can She?

Something is wrong with my hand. I just went to the kitchen and the young dog, Joy, followed me. She kept rolling her ball and hitting me in the back of the foot with it. That’s how she gets me to throw the ball (in the house) so that she can chase it. I stopped and picked it up and threw it and neither one of us knew where it went. I went and helped her look for it and found it between two cushions.

OK. That was an “off” throw. So I continued towards the kitchen feeling the ball strike me in the back of the foot as she gently rolled it towards me over and over. I turned around, picked it up and threw it again. I have no clue where it went. I looked until I got tired of looking, got my water and came back down to my room. I guess she is still looking for that ball. (It’s not like she has ten more just like it in the house . . . )

I used to be the catcher for the company softball team. Catching was half the job; throwing the ball back to the pitcher was the other half . . . and the occasional OUT! I would cause for the other team on a pop up hit . . . but I digress.

I should be able to throw the ball so that the dog can find it.

I couldn’t stand it any more, and I went to check if she had found that ball or not. I can’t tell. She has four of them she’s rolling around in the hall. She made me stop and throw one. Now she has three.

I’m buying her an i Fetch Too for Christmas.

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About msplayful

I am someone who finds life humorous and often share my views with friends and co-workers. Since I've been told I should be a stand-up comedian, I thought I'd see how well I could do at writing funny things that happen, or that happen in my head.
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