A Story

So tonight Jack and I climbed part way up Lone Peak. A very small part, to be sure, but a very difficult part. The slope was steep enough that on more than one occasion, I almost fell over backward. For Jack, it was a cinch...at first. He had his ball and every now and then he'd set it down. Of course, since there was no level ground, the ball would take off on it's own walk--down, and it wasn't really a walk--more like a dash. Jack would jump to the chase and mostly he got to it fairly soon. Once he just stood and watched it go. I said, Jack go get that ball. He ended up catching up with it at the bottom of the hill, just before it rolled over the edge of another steep drop. After that he was a little more careful.

As we neared the top he was standing over his ball as I huffed and puffed up to him. He'd pick it up momentarily and drop it again. My interpretation was that he was tired of carrying it and wanted me to take over. It was slimy and muddy and, in general, not something I wanted to put in my pocket. But I hated to lose a ball, so I picked it up. Then I realized why he didn't want it any more--he had dropped it in an ant hill and was swarming with red and black ants. They thought they were at slime feast. I rolled it under my foot and squished out as much of the slime and ants as I could, then picked off the last hangers-on and put it in my pocket. He didn't ask for it again, but he did keep an eye on the growing wet spot in my pocket.

What I don't do for this dog!