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.

Juno's raccoon

A couple of weeks ago, Juno lost her raccoon. But then she found it.

Of course, I'm not talking about a real raccoon. Real raccoons are scary. They are nearly as big as a big, strong, muscular--and handsome--dog such as myself. I saw a real raccoon once. It was in my backyard, sitting on a fence post and staring at me with those spooky eyes. I'll tell you, I did not go into the backyard after that for a while.

No, I'm talking about a toy raccoon, the one Mom gave Juno about a month ago. Mom bought it a long time ago, but Dad said that we already had a big collection of toys, so we should save it for a rainy day.

At the time, our collection included three elderly Grunty Hedgehogs. They used to grunt when you bit them in the right place, but I took care of that with my powerful jaws. I used to have fun tearing a hole in a hedgehog's skin and then pulling out the stuffing. The stuffing is no good to eat, so I'd just leave it around for Dad to push back into the hedgehog. Then he'd sew it up for next time.

After a while, I got tired of chewing on the hedgehogs. After all, I'm an intellectual dog, and I don't like to do the same things over and over. Well, except swimming, eating, and sniffing.

But my simpleton sister liked to play with the hedgehogs day after day. Dad would throw a hog from the living room down the hall into the bathroom. Juno would go tearing after it and retrieve it. Of course, she wouldn't give it back--no self-respecting dog gives something back to a human. It would make them feel too big and important. But Dad would be ready with a second hedgehog. He'd throw it, and Juno would drop the first one and go running after the second.

I couldn't stand to see her enjoying herself like that, day after day. I'd growl and body-block her when she's chasing a thrown stuffed animal. It's not right that she should be having so much fun with no thought for dignity.

One day Mom finally brought the raccoon up from its hiding place in the basement. (It didn't seem to be raining.) Juno really flipped out over it. She loved it so much that she growled a bit and gave Mom the Evil Eye when Mom came close. I could tell that I was going to have to do even more body-blocking and butt-slamming to prevent Juno from having too much fun.

Juno was in raccoon heaven for a month. She and Dad would play and play with the fresh new raccoon. Sometimes the two remaining hedgehogs would join in (one had been retired).

But then the raccoon went missing. Mom and Dad searched the house and backyard, but couldn't find it. Mom was sad. She thought Juno was sad, too, but Juno seemed to be getting by OK with the hedgehogs.

The story has a happy ending: Juno found her raccoon a couple of days after it was lost. She isn't saying where she found it, but all is right with the world again. She's chasing the thrown raccoon, I'm trying to enforce the rules of dignity, and the raccoon is still squeaking when you bite it.