Don’t get me wrong, Tara is one nice, gentle and mostly obedient dog. She spends her day mostly quietly, exploring the yard, napping on the lanai, napping on the deck or napping in the house.
Once a day though, we play a little game of fetch with a couple of tennis-type balls and a ‘chucker’ that helps me to, well, chuck the ball farther than I ever could with my wimpy arm. She’s even very good about dropping the ball she’s just fetched since I won’t throw the next one until she does. But when this pleasant activity is over it’s then that we play ‘Tara’s Game’.
It starts after I’ve come back to the deck to read, surf or whatever. It’s then she arrives with the last ball of the previous game. She doesn’t want me to throw it though, oh no. She wants me to fetch it. It starts innocently enough. Perhaps she’ll just drop it near the pool, hoping that’ll be enough to get me up to get it for her. Not quite.
She might even lie down for a bit, to lure me into a false sense of security.
It’s all a crafty game though, and we’ve barely started to play.
Soon, we progress to the meat of the matter. Somehow, the ball ends up in the pool, and she knows full well she’s not allowed in there to get it out. I wonder who can?
So it’s up to someone to get up, find a mop or pool net or something longish to nudge the ball out of the pool. And maybe, just maybe toss it a short distance. Far enough to regain my seat before she’s back, ready to play again.