“Here,” Bitch told me. I turned around, and she handed me the blue stick that had been jutting out of the zipper of the backpack. It was plastic, molded to have a handle with finger-holds on one end and a cup on the other.
Ooh! So it’s kind of like an arm extension so you can throw the ball further?
As a dog brought the ball to me, I experimentally pressed the cupped end down on it, and the ball snapped into place.
When I whipped it forward, the ball went flying, five times as far than it had when I’d used my hand. Most of the dogs stampeded after it, racing to be the first to grab it or chasing after the ones in the lead.
Niiice.
It was nice, enjoying the sunshine, playing with the dogs, having no responsibilities or pressures for the moment.
I turned to look over my shoulder. “Can you tell me about some of them? The dogs?”
Yes please.
I’m aware this is probably headed into discussion of animal abuse, so not really happy fun time, but still, I do want to hear about the dogs.
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