These people don’t get it.

I. Just. Want. The. Ball.

It really doesn’t matter which one.  Just something round.  Something that bounces, or doesn’t.  Something that’s green, or isn’t.  I seriously don’t care – I just want you to throw it.  And throw it again.

Oh, and I’ll bring it back and drop it in front of you.  I’ll even put it in your hand if you hold it out.  None of that – I’ve-got-it-and-you’ve-got-to-prise-it-from-my-dripping-jaws stuff.  I’ll TOTALLY make this process easy for you while you eat your burger or diaper your kid.

Because I need you to throw it again.

I know that this is an issue.  It’s an addiction on a pathological level and I get it.  I know that I will ignore a visitor, a jogger, a possum and even, unbelievably, a deer, if you just say “Mungo! Where’s your ball?”  I don’t know exactly how it happened but I’ve got some pretty shrewd ideas based on some conversations I’ve overheard over the years.

Seems my owners were out in Africa for awhile, messing around in their twenties (you’d never know it now – they are so freaking middle aged), and they stayed with a friend who had a ball-obsessed Jack Russell named Ho-Ho (and you thought my name was bogus).  I guess it was amusing – the way he used to stare at the ball on the bookcase for two hours and chase it for miles over the red dust in between chasing puff-adders, and they thought – in their twenty-something wisdom – that they wanted that kind of action-packed dog.

Nice.  So they sorta trained me that way. I mean, they didn’t train me out of it – you know, let me enjoy a life free from obsession.

I’ve tried to fight it, but there’s something bigger than me going on here.  I just ask that you take a little pity and don’t throw it for too long. Because I can’t stop.  I won’t stop.  If YOU get tired while you’re sipping your Prosecco and hand the tennis racket to someone else on the deck, and they hand it to someone else etc…, I’ll just keep chasing it till my heart stops.

No seriously, I totally will.  Do you want that on your conscience?

Just don’t let me see it and we’re good.  We can do other dog things together. Nothing weird.