 |
| Panzer (left) and Vega are worn out from chasing tennis balls. |
Since the rain cooled things off a bit this evening, I leash up both of my German Shepherd dogs, pocket two tennis balls and stuff one "Chuckit" plastic ball launcher inside the waistband of my shorts. I bring the ball launcher as much for Vega's and Panzer's sake as for my arm's sake, because as my father once told me, "You throw like a girl."
As soon as I send one ball sailing both dogs are off like a shot. They don't seem to understand that there's a ball for each of them and that I've already got the second one locked and loaded. So I wait.
Vega's a bit faster - or maybe Panzer just defers to his mother - but in any case, she grabs the ball and races back with Panzer hot on her heels.
She drops the ball at my feet, they look at me expectantly and I explain how this game can work for both of them. I show them the two balls. I tell them I'll throw both in quick succession, one for each of them.
Then I let the first ball fly. It's immediately obvious my instruction fell on deaf -- or should I say dog - ears.
Vega's in the lead so I call out to Panzer. He turns his head and I send ball number two in his direction. Vega snatches up ball number one. Panzer grabs ball number two. They both return their respective balls to me. And all is right in the world.
We continue in this fashion until their tongues are hanging out and their panting is heavy. If alone, Vega would tire of this game of her own accord. The same for Panzer. But when I bring them together, chasing the tennis ball becomes a competitive sport. And neither dog is willing to be the first to give up.
Being the leader of the pack, I have the good sense to call it an evening. We all walk home. The dogs are worn out and spread themselves across the floor where, lucky for me, they've been ever since.
Turns out, Vega and Panzer are right. An evening chasing tennis balls is about as good as life can get - for a dog owner and her two tired dogs.
No comments:
Post a Comment