Mr. R. took Jack, our 85-pound land shark out in the back yard between rain showers this morning to play with his new ball. They played and romped for a few minutes in the wet grass before Jack took a piddle break.


After that, Jack refused to pick up the ball, forcing Mr. R. to walk across the yard to retrieve it. They came back into the house with Jack being scolded. “When I tell you to get the ball, you get the ball,” Mr. R. grumped.

To me, he said, “He didn’t want to pick up the ball because it’s wet and he thought he peed on it.”

“Really?” I replied.

Mr. R. nodded sagely. “I know my dog.”

I considered this for a moment. “But he eats turds out of the litter box,” I commented.

Other people’s turds,” Mr. R. said. “He’s not an animal.”



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