Doggone tennis ball
Often while my daughter has soccer practice at the high school, I walk the track for exercise. I find it enjoyable, despite the repetition of walking in a loop, because I enjoy watching the girls run drills and hone their skills.
However, one night last week, my son joined me on the track. After about five or six laps, he was completely over walking the loops. He began to complain. He began to trail off. He was bored.
So, I asked him if he wanted to walk down and look at the tennis courts. He perked up immediately as we headed off across the parking lot. About a million steps down the bank and we were there. We entered the courts and walked around for a few minutes. On the far side, we saw an old, faded tennis ball just along the edge of the woods that circle the court. Happily, my son picked it up and began to throw it around the court and chase it around. It was far more fun for him than walking the track was.
Another half hour or so and practice was set to be wrapping up. Back up those million steps and back across the parking lot we went. He was excited to brag to his sister about that ratty old ball, though she was less than impressed by his discovery.
When we arrived home, he immediately took the ball to our dog, Brick, and they began to play. In a short time, my son was exhausted and went to bed, but the dog was not done. For nearly another hour, he tossed the ball into the air and then went to retrieve it. Finally, I had to take the ball from him so we all could go to bed.
I put the tennis ball on the stand beside my bed before turning out my light. The dog stood for some time beside the bed, just looking at me. Finally, I demanded that he go lie down, and he begrudgingly complied. His sigh was nearly audible.
About a half an hour later, as I was in that state of sleep where reality and dreams sometimes mix, I thought I heard a tiny clinking noise. I sat up and looked around but saw nothing, so I assumed it was in a dream. I settled back down, but heard the same noise a short time later. This frustrating scenario repeated itself a few more times before I finally figured out the noise was quite real. I also figured out exactly what the noise was.
That silly dog was trying to belly crawl across the floor toward my side of the bed. Each time his collar tags clinked, I would awaken and sit up, and he would stop moving. When I lay back down, he would inch forward again until he bumped his tags again. He made it more than halfway around the end of the bed – trying to retrieve his ball – before I caught him in the act.
He finally fell asleep, and then so did I, but I’m pretty sure the mere act of going to bed was more exhausting than taking all those million steps at the tennis court.
I think I’ll go back to walking the loops next week.
Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.