I had some errands to run this afternoon. They all had to do with Molly, the Official Dog of the Impeachment Movement™ who quite possibly is the most indulged dog in town. When Molly came to us, her diet consisted of 4 different kinds of dog food at each meal. We've whittled it down to 3 (eliminating the one that caused most of the noxious emissions) plus treats. But -- woe was Molly -- we were out of treats and the special "Molly nuggets" that go on top of her food at every meal. Of course, the treats and the nuggets are not available in the same place, so I had to plan my trip well. To be even more efficient I took Molly with me, intending to end the trip at the hallowed grounds of the bark park.
First of all, Molly is dreadful in the car. She is so excited to be going somewhere that she begins barking as soon as she is out of the house and doesn't stop until we arrive at a destination and throw the tennis ball for the first time. She was not pleased that we had to make some stops, even though I explained that they were for her. She was extra hyped up by the time we arrived at the BP. I got her out of the car, reached for the Chuck-it™ (a kind of atlatl that is used for chucking tennis balls) and ... horrors! There was no tennis ball! Too late I remembered that Mr. Ether had told me that Molly had lost her ball in the long grass in the dark on yesterday's BP visit.
Molly was bouncing around me on all fours, barking, "THROWTHEBALLTHROWTHEBALLTHROWTHEBALLNOW!" while I frantically got out my cell phone and dialed the next best thing to 911 -- Mr. Ether. (Mr. Ether was home painting the bathroom, because he's a saint.) "In which long grass did Molly lose her ball last night? Please, you have to tell me ..."
Just when I thought all was lost along with the tennis ball (Molly lives to chase the tennis ball at the BP) a sweet, golden, harp-like voice inquired, "Do you need another ball?" I turned to see an angel, bathed in a sunbeam, holding out a tennis ball. (OK, it might have been the owner of a chocolate lab who is equally ball-obsessed.)
So Molly got her ball-fix after all. She chased the ball, ate grass, barfed, chased the ball again. Then she came home and had cuddle time with me on the porch (another daily necessity.) Now she's ready for another day of lobbying for impeachment to be put back on the table.
8 comments:
I had intended to put another ball in the car last night, envisioning just such a situation, but... I forgot. Oops. Lucky thing for Bark Park angels.
Hey, that's OK. You're painting the bathroom.
And I thought you didn't comment on my blog. Ha.
hehehehe, you said atlatl.
When I was a wee lad, I wanted to be a dalmatian when I grew up. As I look back now that might not have been such a bad career source.
Good dog!
Aaaawwwwwwww... That is one great post about one great dog!
Sorghum Crow: Alatl, atlatl, atlatl! Actually we are starting to wonder whether Molly is a dalmation at all, because other than the spots (which are not super distinct like a dalmation's) she really doesn't look like a dalmation. We think maybe she's a mix of something with German shorthaired pointer, based on certain behaviors and the fact that she had a black mask in her younger days. (Maybe she was part Lone Ranger?)
DCup and Fran: Thank you. I'm sort of head over heels in love with this dog.
Two important facts: The Chuck-It is named after me.
My poodle actually makes tennis balls, at the dog park, when he loses them. Wow! When he's not saving some hapless child who's fallen down a well.......
Wow, Mr. Chuck-it. I never knew.
Molly doesn't make tennis balls, but she has made some excellent stools.
Beeteedub, I've always meant to ask you: How much wood WOULD a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? The question keeps me up nights.
Post a Comment