I don’t have kids. I have a dog. Her name is Tallulah (Lu for short) and she has literally saved my life. She is amazing and I love her. She’s quiet, I could count on one hand how many times I have heard her bark. She’s got a LOAD of personality, and I think she’s adorable.
I have friends with kids, in fact, being days away from 34 years old, most of my friends are parents. I have bought toy after toy for their children, believing in karma, I NEVER buy those annoying noisy toys that make parents want to drop their children off at WalMart and never look back. Merely for the reason that, if I ever have children, I don’t want the payback.
Enter the ball.
My parents take my dog to the park for me sometimes during the day, so she gets some extra play time and is out of the crate a little more often. I appreciate the help, and it makes me feel not so bad about Lu being alone while I am at work.
One fine day, I come home and there is an orange ball in my house. It’s a chuckit ball. Chuckit is a great toy, helps you hurtle a ball a million times for your dog to chase and even picks the ball up for you so you don’t have to touch it when it gets slimy. Genius.
Apparently Lu picked up the ball at the park, played with it, then carried it home. Dad asked around, no one claimed the ball, so Lu did. Fine, whatever, I’m happy she has a toy that she loves this much. For days all she would do is play with the ball. She is obsessed with it. This ball has become the equivalent of every noisy, annoying toy I never bought the kids in my life. Karma, you are sorely mistaken.
Lu will pounce on the ball and throw it for herself. She will chew on it until her spit has filled the ball and it makes gurgling squishing noises. She especially likes to chew it in the middle of the night. Her favourite chewing spot? Directly beside the sofa. So most of my days home are spent pulling the stupid ball out from under the sofa, only to have her launch it there five seconds later.
“Just stop getting the ball” you say? Come on, I’m not that stupid. I’ve tried just leaving it there. This action results in Lu laying on the floor, her face jammed under the sofa, crying and talking until I get the ball out.
Taking the ball away just seems cruel, like removing the soother from your child before they are ready to give it up, or throwing away their favourite toy. Heck, I’ve even replaced the stupid ball when it got to be over chewed and had a hole in it.
My parents, who started this whole ball business in the first place, have even requested for the ball not to accompany LU out for stays at their house anymore. Apparently it makes Dad crazy… go figure.
Ball: 200, Natalie: 0