This is my best ball.
The nice humans who live next door to our old kennel gave it to me when
they came to visit last week. It squeaks
at me when I give it a little squeeze so I know it loves me too. I take
it everywhere with me just in case it gets lonely.
I have heard our humans talk about playing with their best
ball. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t
take their best ball everywhere with them, so when Mummy was out today, I took
advantage of using her writing box to do a little research and see what humans consider
to be the correct treatment for their best ball. I was very upset by my findings.
Daddy came from the land where male humans wear skirts which is where the game of coaxing little white balls across fields with sticks was started. I know that our humans have bags full of these sticks which, with a
team of three other humans they use to coax the little white balls to fly across
fields. From what I can understand, in the land we live in, sometimes they play something called a scramble with their long sticks (I find this very confusing because I thought this was something Daddy does with eggs on Sunday mornings). The
most athletic ball that flies the furthest then gets hit by all four of the
humans. I would never treat my best ball
that way.
Tobermory
