The deadliest, jelliest site ever. Brought to you by Niamh Shaw

I was halfway down the road with dog and walking boots in the car, when I realized we had forgotten something. By ‘we’, I don’t usually hold Jed accountable for household items. However, in this instance I am referring to Ball, which is primarily Jed’s responsibility.

Ball’s habitual residence is clamped in Jed’s jaws. Where Jed goes, Ball precedes him by the skin of his teeth – except when Jed is applying his gob to Other Business – in order of priority and often chronology: eating, licking his balls, nibbling his butt, and slurping on Husband’s face.

Since I was going to Westcity Henderson before taking Jed for a walk, I procured a stunt-double: a tennis ball for $1.67.

Stunt-Double Ball is now Jed’s favourite new toy.

His favourite application of his favourite new toy – apart from immersing it in mud, but really you could say that about anything – is nudging it with his nose, then pouncing on it before it escapes beneath the sofa.

Unfortunately, he needs some more practice at this; equally unfortunately, the gap beneath the sofa is about half a millimeter taller than the diameter of a tennis ball, which in a near perfect confluence of misfortunes, is not conducive to retrieval of Stunt-Double Ball. Not that Jed doesn’t try; and I can’t tell you how entertaining it is when he jams his head under the sofa, tail sweeping wildly, and scrabbles away on the floor with all paws.

So amongst my numerous duties around the house, I am also apparently in charge of extracting Stunt-Double Ball. Otherwise, Jed mopes and/or sulks.

Me: Hey, Puppy DUPPY! Where’s Stunt-Double Ball?

Jed: <Casting doleful eyes towards the sofa. Launches vicious yet heartbreakingly futile attack on sofa>

Me: Is it under there, HMM? Have you lost your Stunt-Double Ball under the sofa? Let’s have a look, shall we? <stretching flat out on the floor>

Me: Oh, there it is. THERE it is. Right – at – the – back. How did you manage that Fluppy Puppy? <getting to feet> I’m going to need some sort of . . . long . . . thing to handle this.

Me: <walking to kitchen> Now, Jedster, pay attention. HERE is where my species is superior to yours. Not to be mean – and I’m not talking about opposable thumbs – although I suppose that’s ANOTHER area wherein my species is superior to yours. But specifically, I am referring to-

Me: <brandishes fly-swat at dog> TOOLS!

Jed: <trots expectantly after me as I return to the sofa>

Me: <adopting prostrate position on floor again> You see? I take my fly-swat – or Ultimate Extraction Device – and . . .

Jed: <jumps on my head>

Me: <muffled> Ok, you’ve made your point.

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