Basket-, er, Soccerball?

We have a new game. It's an old ball, but Freki had no interest in it until about a week ago. That is when she learned to play soccer- with a small, under-inflated basketball.

I picked it up while on a search for a relatively indestructible toy, thinking the tough hide of a kid's basketball would surely last longer than the thin-plastic of those bouncy balls found in every shape and color, usually in big net bins in the sport section of most stores.

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Don't get me wrong. The dogs love those balls. For approximately thirty seconds. One good bite and the wonderful, lightweight, bouncing ball becomes a handful of limp rubberized plastic.

Now that she can get her mouth on the ball and she is losing her baby clumsiness, Freki has decided this is her game of choice. Oh, she still hauls the Jolly Ball around, flipping it in the air and shaking it about. But if she can entice me or dad to play soccer--her world is wonderful.

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She is a herding dog with a strong prey drive. She chases the ball with intensity, corners it, subdues it with a paw, her body. She weaves back and forth, waiting to see which foot we will use to kick the ball, and often stops the ball mere inches from its starting point. Tongue lolling, tail wagging, she crouches over the ball, waiting anxiously for its next move.

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Sometimes I have to tell her to 'back off' so I get a fair shot.

If I do not move with the ball, she stops it then circles back to get me. 'Come on, mom! Kick the ball again!'

Does she know the word 'basketball'? You better believe she does!

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