The Ball
I'm an obsessed dog.
Four days ago, I found The Ball. Not just a ball, but the ball--the best ball in the world.
Man, this ball is so good that I can hardly explain it. Sure, it looks like a regular green tennis ball. In fact, it looks like the 27 other green tennis balls that I have in my toy box. (Mom and Dad don't play tennis--I just find the balls on our walks. I can't believe that people just leave these balls around.) But it is the greatest ball in the world!
I am so happy to be blessed with this ball. But it's not all a blessing. Once you come into great riches, you have to start being careful--very careful. You never know who might try to separate you from your wealth. Take Mom, for instance. For six years she has generously tended to my every need: feeding me, taking me on long walks, and cuddling me. But nowadays I'm not so sure about her. When I'm sitting on the couch, guarding my ball, she'll do strange things like looking at me, or even sitting down on the couch near me. I can tell that she is thinking of stealing my ball. In fact, it's clear that she can think of little else. Sometimes I have to keep the ball in my mouth for minutes at a time, just to ensure she won't take it.
Fortunately, I'm the same nice, affable guy I've always been. But why has everyone else changed suddenly? Must they be so jealous of my good fortune? Why do they want to wrest from me what is rightfully mine? Let them find their own ball, and leave me alone with my precious. Yesss, my precious.
posted by AtlasDog at 11/28/2004 07:43:00 PM
3 Comments:
I'm a professional writer working in Washington, DC. These are good. I hope you are compiling a book.
Thanks, Lone Ranger!
I dunno about a book. I'm not a professional writer, just a professional dog. Being a dog is what I do for a living.
My dad wrote a book a long time ago. Geez, was that thing boring. Something about computers. He sold only about one copy for every day I've lived so far.
Hmmmm, if I wrote a book about something interesting--me--maybe I could sell more copies than my dad did with his boring book. And maybe then I could get him to feed me more treats. I'll have to think about it.
Good luck with your writing, Lone Ranger.
If it doesn't squeak, it is not the ultimate ball. How can you find it under a blanket if it doesn't squeak? On the other hand, maybe the reason you haven't blogged in a while is that the ball is keeping you so busy. Hmm. I gotta get me one of those.
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