So now it’s Huckleberry’s turn to do a little training out front of the house while Franny and Hamish watch from the living room picture window.
“Huckleberry, sit,” I say.
“Okay, like this?” he says and sits.
“That’s perfect, pal.” I offer him a treat but he ignores it.
“Are you sure you brought my ball?” he asks.
“Yes, I brought your ball.”
“But I don’t see it.”
“It’s in my pocket.”
“Are you sure? Your pockets have holes in them.”
He’s right. I learned the hard way not to leave treats in my shorts pockets and then leave the shorts in the laundry basket within reach of the dogs.
“Are you sure you didn’t leave it in the house because if you left it inside I bet Hamish is having loads of fun playing with it.” He looks longingly toward the house. “I wish I was playing with my ball right now instead of doing whatever this is that we’re doing. What are we doing anyway? Why are we hanging out in the driveway like a couple of panhandlers? Did you forget your sign? Oh, boy, I know what your sign should say, Will Work for Balls.”
I smile and say, “You’re learning impulse control.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Impulse control? That’s silly. What I really need to learn is ball control. Are you sure you brought my ball because I still can’t see it.”
He’s now got me wondering even though I can feel it in my back pocket. I reach around and take his orange ball from my pocket. At the sight of it, he breaks his sit, springs into the air with all four paws lifting off the ground like the space shuttle, and starts barking at me to throw it.
“Oh look, Raud, there’s a ball in your hand. Where’d that come from? That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Throw it, Raud. Throw the ball.”