Once upon a time there was a Plott Hound who adopted a special Mom, Susan. Unbeknown to Susan at the time, Maggie was a gourmet with an odd penchant. She had a fondness for tennis balls. Not just any tennis ball mind you. Chopped tennis ball, much like chopped liver, was particularly desirable.
tennis balls at the dog park. Twice Maggs has found herself sliced and diced from stem to stern in order to facilitate the removal of an over zealous gorging spree of chopped tennis ball. Our Pack members keep a close eye on Maggs and you can hear numerous "Susan, Maggie has something"s followed by "Maggie, drop it!" We're all pretty good about watching over her but sometimes..... Sometimes conversation gets in the way, other cute dog behaviour gets in the way, odd human behaviour gets in the way, things just get in the way and Maggie "gets away" with purloined chopped tennis balls. Such as Sunday afternoon.
I wasn't there late Sunday afternoon, I had to get back home to prepare for the Lost finale. (don't say it) Shortly after I got to work Monday morning an email from Susan popped up with an attachment. Getting attachments from Susan is always exciting because she is such a phenomenal photographer. I clicked open the file and GASP! There was Maggie's most recent sneak attack. Even the outer fuzz was gone! Maggie had presented Susan with the evidence early this morning. Retch #1, retch #2 and retch #3 was the charm, up they all came. I don't know how Susan stays sane with a tennis ball scrounger like Maggie. I would have gone insane by now trailing along behind The Prince or The Pauper. The Prince garbage hunts along the fence line and The Pauper enjoys sucking on rocks but neither of them has ever eaten anything like that. We are more vigilant than ever now. Everyone has learned how to converse, laugh and debate with their eyes glued to the ground. We find ourselves becoming toe dexterous, prodding suspicious looking items out of the ground, eyeballing bits of green, trimming our waistlines bending over and inspecting. All the while our Maggs pretending no one is looking, hoping beyond hope that no one will notice and she can again gulp down that delectable of all delectables, chopped tennis ball.
The one saving grace is it is now Bunny Season. Nests full of furry, squirming baby bunnies trump chopped tennis balls any day of the week.
SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!
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