Bo has a new favorite toy. It's a tennis ball, or as I call it, "Bally."
It used to be that sometimes when he wasn't quite ready to settle in for the night, he would bring the remains of his duck to bed and contentedly chew on it until he got sleepy. The remains of his duck, by the way, are basically an orange rope.
Last night he brought Bally with him. He'd gnaw on it and Bally would get away from him, bounce across the floor and he'd get up, retrieve it, hop back into bed then curl back up and start chewing again. He did that a couple of times. Eventually Bally bounced away once more and he watched it intently then laid his head on my leg for a few seconds, debating. I surmised that he couldn't abandon Bally to the lava*, so he snuffled, got up, retrieved Bally from the floor, hopped back onto the bed, deposited Bally at the foot of the bed, then curled up and went to sleep.
* When he's playing with a toy he will do anything to stay on a sofa, his pillow, or the bed and avoid the floor, so we joke that he's playing a game of "the floor is lava."
Tonight when Bo went potty, he started to dash off to the field and I yelled BALL! He came running back to the house like his ass was on fire. I'll file that away for future use.
At the moment he's crashed out on the sofa next to me, but earlier, Mike and Bo had a spirited game of catch. Then Bo converted it to a game of keep-away.
You have my ball?
Correction: *I* have my ball.
I would like Bally back, please...
Bally!
Nom-nom-nom...
Don't touch my ball.
Treats?
Who needs 'em - I have Bally.
He certainly keeps us entertained.
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