…you find tennis balls in random places.
Dogs and tennis balls, like strawberries and cream, such a perfect combination (and look I made a Wimbledon connection too!). Don’t ask me how it happened, but centuries of domestication seem to have turned the average wolf descendant into a ball obsessed loon. I figure if you throw a ball for a wolf they will look at you with deep disdain. Throw a ball for a dog and they are your new best friend.
Today’s muddy tennis ball turned up in the bathroom, just by the toilet. Why it had been left there can only be wondered at. It was eventually retrieved and restored to its usual place – lodged in my spaniel’s mouth.
Sparrow the spaniel collects tennis balls like they are going out of fashion. I don’t ever buy her tennis balls, she just finds them. In the park, on the beach, if there is a homeless tennis ball sitting there, bemoaning its lack of a doggy playmate, Sparrow will find it. She has proven so expert at tennis ball recovery, that she can stop on a walk, head in the air, foot up like a pointer, then dart into a bush and return with a ball proudly in her mouth. I can only assume she knows what they smell like.
Recently, it appears the balls have been breeding. I now have three dotted about the house. I can only remember how we acquired two of them…
With summer on the way, I can only imagine our collection will increase as doggy walkies take out their ball chuckers and lose tennis ball after tennis ball. Some of them will find a home here, nestled with the rest of Sparrow’s collection. Content. Safe.
Until she decides to destroy one of them…