Playing Ball
I should perhaps have headed this as ‘not playing ball’. It really doesn’t seem fair. Alfie can’t play ball because it does very strange things to his brain and he goes a bit loopy. He didn’t used to, it’s only his dementia, but even two minutes of ball can take several hours to recover from. Shadow can’t play ball because of her bad leg. Believe me when I say she wants to. She wants to very much indeed. I can’t play ball because of my bad legs. I’ve never been allowed to play because it would do so much harm and as a result I don’t really know how to. Wilma has finally decided she loves playing ball and she’s now fed up that she hasn’t got anyone apart from our Mistress to play with. Wilma can run for hours. Sometimes she just fetches the ball and does several extra laps of the garden just for the fun of it, before bringing it right back to our Mistress’s feet. It’s fair to say our Mistress got fed up with the game long before Wilma did.
Lovely Walk
Wilma had already been for a lovely walk before even starting to play ball. They were going to do two laps of the airfield again, but for reasons I won’t go into, partly involving two rabbits and a pheasant, our Mistress decided against. Instead they came home and carried on their exercise and enjoyment of the sunshine by playing ball. There was just one tiny little problem. They, and our neighbours, had to put up with a loud chorus of complaints from the three of us who were all being kept indoors out of the way. Life just isn’t fair. Oh, don’t get me wrong, both Shadow and I had already been out for lovely walks as far as we each wanted to go. It wasn’t as though we were missing out. It’s just that when you hear others playing you really just want to join in!
I made up for it with a lovely cuddle though.
Have a great Sunday
Aristotle
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