Jack lost a ball tonight. It took a downhill detour and both of us lost track of where it went. He looked in every sage, every bunch of grass, up and down the drop off, to no avail. Neither of us was particularly anxious to spend any more time, since at 8:00 it was still 96 degrees. We just came home and called it a write off.
I imagine we will find it on some subsequent walk.
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Oh the horror. The tragedy. A lost ball. I'm sure he'll go over the walk again and again in his mind, reconstructing the scene, the sounds, the smells, trying to figure out where he lost it. "Stupid Jack!" he'll mumble, "How could I let this happen?" Poor boy, I hope he can put it behind him soon.
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