April 10, 2005

"Tennis Ball, Anyone?"

A Personal Account by Murph E. Dawg

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon.  I was out in the back yard clad in my best Speedo, soaking up some fine rays on my chaise lounge, and having a dream about a cute little female dawg who was applying my suntan lotion on the places I couldn't reach.  My reverie was interrupted when my bipeds called me inside.  They had my water bowl ready, and my leash, and my tennis ball.  Hot dawg!  We were going for a ride in our truck!  I love to go for rides in our truck!  


Guess where we went?  Yep!  We went to the dawg beach.  This is me with my biped, Frank.  He had my tennis ball in his left hand.  I was ready to rumble!

Frank threw my ball way out in the ocean.  I, of course, being ever alert and vigilantly prepared, was already in mid-stride, heading toward the water to retrieve my tennis ball.

I located the splashdown site with no problem and rapidly closed in on my prey.

Houston, I have the ball.  Now to get safely back to shore...

...I'm getting closer...hope this isn't a "No Wake" zone!

Land Ho!

Now, what should I do with this ball?

I could give it to Frank.

Or I could trot over to Sherry and shake myself real hard and get water all over her camera.

Geez!  It was just a little water!  You won't melt...will you?!?

O.K.  Let's play some more.  Here's my ball.  Who's going to throw it?  Anybody?

Oh boy!  Here comes Frank!  I bet he'll throw the ball for me.  I better make a mental note to not shake any water on him.

Yahoo!  I could do this all day!

And so it went for a couple of hours.  A good time was had by all.  We cleaned up when we got home.  Sherry left two pounds of sand in the shower. Then Frank left four pounds of sand in the shower. When they washed me, I left eight pounds of sand in the bathtub.  Getting a bath was worth it for the fun I had.

The End

Click Here To Return To Doug's Place

Copyright � 2005.  All rights reserved.