A Girl and her Ball

(This cute story is pre-empted by my notes from this morning: how on earth did she pull the hinge pin and door stopper off the bedroom door? How did I not hear it? Fortunately easily fixed, but the teeth marks in the baseboard next to the shower is not. Reminder? Make sure she has a toy while I am in the shower. Back to the regular post-)

OK, so I started off with the serious photo. What you don't see is Freki dancing about the house with that bone in her mouth, batting the ball around with her feet. I posted that photo of her playing 'golf' when she was quite young. She still does it.  Only, now, we have a variation on the theme. Rather, several variations.

She loves her tennis ball. She knows where it is pretty much all the time. Outside, the word 'ball' sends her into a frenzy of playing with the basketball, but her inside game involves her beloved tennis ball.

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When she is not playing ball by herself, she is following me around the house with the tennis ball in her mouth. She will drop it, take a few steps away, and beg me to kick the ball.

At that point she will do her best to stop the ball or chase it to its final destination. She scoops it up and prances about, proud of herself for once again capturing the errant ball.

She can often be found sitting for quite a period of time (the length of a shower at least), waiting patiently for someone to kick or toss the ball for her.

She likes to pretend to help around the house. But her idea of helping often involves hiding her ball in whatever I am doing. I have been trained to toss it out of my way, thus falling prey to her devious plan.

Silly girl!