Mine!

Toby Beagle developed a “thing” for tennis balls. He also decided they were made especially for him. He had a pile of them at home that Brandon knew he hadn’t bought.

Toby was proud of his stash.

“Toby, where did you get all these tennis balls?”

Wag wag wag.

One day, a cousin of Brandon’s came by with her two year old son, Casey, to visit. They had not met Toby, who was out in the front yard. As soon as they came through the gate, Toby spotted the red, rubber ball in Casey’s hand. MINE, thought Toby.

He trotted over to them and Mom was about to pat him on the head, when he snatched the ball out of Casey’s hand. Well, a piercing shriek that could be heard in Anchorage, burst from Casey’s angry little mouth. Brandon came flying out of the house. Toby hid under the hedge.

Marci, Casey’s mom, picked him up and tried to console him.

Rushing up, Brandon, said, “What’s the matter? Did Toby hurt him?”

“Ball,” said Casey, tears streaming down his face.

“Your dog snatched Casey’s ball out of his hand and ran off,” the offended mom said.

Brandon smiled at Casey. “I know where there are lots of balls. You want to come see?”

“NO!” said Casey, swatting his fist at Brandon. “Want mine!”

Brandon apologized to Marci for Toby, and gave her a quick hug (on her side away from Casey.) “Hang on a minute and I’ll get it.”

“Mine!” said Casey.

Brandon walked over to the hedge and squatted down in front of Toby. “Toby, give.” Toby didn’t move.

“Toby, give me the ball.”

Toby growled.

Brandon grabbed Toby’s collar and dragged him into the house, calling back to Marci, “Come on in. Be with you in a minute.” He went in the kitchen where Toby’s kennel was. Brandon said, “Toby, drop it.” Toby looked at the kennel and back at Brandon, and dropped it.

As Brandon washed the ball with soap and water, he looked down at Toby. “This is NOT your ball. THIS is Casey’s ball. If you take it again, you’re going in your kennel.” This was another word Toby knew.

In the living room, Marci and Casey were standing, waiting, looking around.

“I’m so sorry,” Brandon said, walking in. “Toby is going through a possessive phase.

Marci laughed. “Tell me about it,” she said, eyeing Casey.

Toby ambled over to his stash of tennis balls, picked one up, and dropped it at Casey’s feet. Casey looked at Brandon.

“He wants you to throw it for him. He’ll chase it and bring it back,” Brandon said, smiling.

Casey sat down, picked up the ball, dropped it and it rolled about two feet. Toby looked back at Brandon, then he slowly picked it up and dropped it again. This time Marci tossed it down the hall.

That’s more like it, thought Toby, his toenails clickety clicking on the hardwood floor. When he brought it back, Brandon showed Casey how to throw it harder, and the game was on, accompanied by squeals of contagious laughter.

When it was time for them to leave, Casey leaned over and kissed Toby on his wet nose. Toby stood still then licked Casey’s face. Casey screwed up his face, ready to let loose an angry wail, when Brandon said, “Casey, that was a kiss! Toby kissed you back.”

“Kiss,” said Casey.  And off they went, good-bying and blowing kisses.

            Brandon and Toby walked back in the house. “That was a close call, Tobe, but you did good. I’m proud of you. Let’s go for a walk!”

“Walk,” for sure, was a word Toby knew.  He ran and grabbed one of his balls and took it to Brandon, who put it in his jacket pocket. “Oh, you think we’re going to the park, huh? You wanta see your little foo foo friend? Toby started jumping all around. He knew the words, foo foo, too.

Brandon decided to go ahead and take him to the park. They walked the curvy paths, Toby pulling on the leash the whole way, but alas, no sign of foo foo. As they passed some bushes, Toby suddenly stuck his head underneath, his tail wagging. He wrestled around making snuffling noises, then backed out, with a mouth full of tennis balls!

Brandon laughed and put out his hands. Toby dropped them, and they both headed for the empty field close by.

Priorities can change.