Glade Celinox
hinia
MandeeBall, ball, ball, BALL!
I'm ready. I'm focused. Let's go.
Excitement runs hot in my veins. I know what's coming. She lets the ball go, and I'm after it like a shot from a gun. My tongue flops from my mouth as I dash forward, kicking up dirt and leaves as I go. Ball, ball, ball, BALL! All of my focus is on the yellow ball, soaring in a graceful arch through the sky.
I briefly note the smoky cottontail rabbit, foraging in the brush just off trail, and the lingering scent of deer, who passed through days before, but all of that pales in comparison to The Ball. I hear it hit the ground with a heavy plop, and in an instant I'm on it, tearing into the tough fabric with savage pleasure. YES! Ball! My teeth find the loop knitted to the end of my favorite toy, and I shake it until I'm turning in circles. The quiet tinkling of laughter drifts to my sensitive ears, and I pause to regard my masters, grinning as they stroll up the trail behind me. My tail wags with careless abandon.
Satisfied that the ball is now dead, I grip it in my strong jaws and prance happily back up the trail, feeling rather pleased with myself. My master has thrown the ball seven times during our long walk, and seven times I've killed it. The ball is no match for me. I drop it at her feet and look at her with big, entreating eyes, and she laughs.
"Good boy, Fitos, good boy," she coos, bending for the ball, and my chest swells like a balloon. My masters must be so proud of me. With a cry of "Fetch, Fitos," she lets the ball fly, and I'm off once again. I never tire of this game.
These are the most enjoyable times for me. The wind rustles gently through my fur, and the sun is warm upon my brow. I's a relief, to stretch my legs, to be able to run as fast as I can, through unfettered ground. Every sight and scent of the wood has a tale to tell, and, when I'm not busy chasing down my runaway enemy, the infamous ball, I pause, and listen to the their story. I watch tiny ants as they scurry about, and I wag my tail at the squirrel who nibbles on the steely shell of his acorn. My masters chatter amongst themselves, stopping every once in a while to smile or coo loving words to me.
All seems right with the world, until a new aroma worms its way into the forest.
My nostrils flare at the fresh scent. In an instant, the easygoing feel of my morning stroll vanishes, giving wake to waves of tension. Anxiety coils my stomach, and my tail drops, sagging like a sail on a windless day. My ball lays forgotten on the side of the trail. Just as it meant everything to me only moments before, it means nothing to me now. The only sound I hear is the steady lumbering of footsteps, growing nearer and nearer as they travel up the trail, on their way to meet us.
I tuck tail and run, back to the humans who's scent I know, who have earned my trust, who don't frighten me anymore. I crane my head and whine up at them.
Are they even aware of the danger? Do they not smell him? Do they not hear him?
Worry knots my insides, but my masters scarcely bat an eye as the outsider draws closer. I cling to them like a stubborn glob of glue, until our paths finally cross, and the withered man is beside us. I know I am a bad boy when I bare my teeth or snarl at humans, so I contain myself, but only by the tip of a hair. My ears lay flat against my skull. Go away, go away...
"Hello, sir, ma'am." The foreign voice sets me on edge, but doesn't seem particularly aggressive. "How are you today?"
"Doing well. And you?"
"Fine, thank you. Say, that's a lovely dog you have there." A small, amiable smile lights up his wrinkled features, but it doesn't touch me.
"Why, thank you, sir"
With a polite tip of his hat, the interloper shuffles on his way, but my bones continue to chatter nervously. The encounter with the unknown human leaves me shaken. I lope quietly at my master’s side, but much of the spring is gone from my step. Only the comforting voice of the humans I love, muttering words of reassurance, helps relieve my unease. Still, even with the strange man left far behind us, his scent plagues the air, and I am ready to go home.
But the forest is a lovely thing, full of wonders and critters unknown, and I am a curious creature. We've only just started our homeward journey when a wandering bird catches my inquisitive eye. He flicks about the ground, probing the dirt with his short beak, moving with a jerky quickness that pricks my interest. His feathers are speckled blue, and, as I look at him, I fancy he is nearly the size of a ball.
Haha, yes. A big, blue, feathered ball.
With that, the old stranger is forgotten, and I again set out in a mad dash, intent on winning my newest game. Go, go, go! After the ball! I leap forward with all the instinctive skill of a wolf, pounding through the undergrowth more speedily than ever before. I've got him! I'm almost on top of my enemy, confident of my ensuing victory, when I realize this ball has eyes, and wings, and he doesn't wish to be pounced upon by me.
With an alarmed squawk, my target flares his wings and launches himself into an ocean of blue, leaving me with no more than a mouthful of his dainty feathers. My eyes follow his fluttering path across the sky, towards the height of the tallest evergreen. A tiny whimper escapes me as I finally lose sight of him. I lost
Crestfallen, I trudge back to the trail, head down and tail hanging low. My master chuckles and scratches me affectionately in my favorite spot, just behind the ears.
I feel a little better.
"Ah, Fitos," she laughs, "Don't you know? Birds aren't as easy to catch as toy balls."
