Blitz Ball

Blitz loves balls. Every morning, I throw the ball, he chases it. Brings it back. Whether he drops it or not is a tossup. 

If Blitz doesn't let go of the ball, I wait a few beats, then generally go back into the house and resume whatever I was doing before the game began. He often lays down on the deck chomping on the ball or simply holding it securely in his mouth. 

I check on the situation periodically and one of those times it's likely Blitz has left the ball on the other side of the door ready to throw. And then I spot him out in the yard waiting patiently for me to hurl it his way. And of course, I do. Clearly, Blitz has trained me to play his very own version of fetch. 

There could be three or five or even a dozen more rounds of the game -- me throwing the ball, Blitz chasing it, retrieving it, returning to me with the ball in his mouth, but then refusing to give it up. Then me going back to the house, checking on the ball's status. Picking it up when it's been left for me. And throwing it all over again. And so it goes.

Eventually the game comes to an end. Sometimes because Blitz has decided a squirrel needs chasing. Or deer have appeared in the picture and must to be moved along. Or maybe just because.

But whenever the game of not-precisely-fetch comes to an end, the ball is most often abandoned somewhere in the yard. It could be in plain view, ready for the next morning's session. Or it could have seemingly disappeared amid the pine straw and leaves.  

That means I'm the one that will be searching for and retrieving the ball for the next day's session. It's  how the game is played.