Ball was red and shaped like rolling. I played with Ball by trying to keep her under my paw. She was fun, but hard to bite. Thomas knew I was enamored with her and it made him happy. He laughed and smiled.
Thomas was a good boy.
That’s why it surprised me when he took her from me. He took her from me and threw her. I remember being upset and confused. I ran after her. She was rolling, but I was able to stop her. I remember thinking that if I didn’t stop Ball, that she would roll forever and I’d never see her again.
I tried gripping her in my mouth again, but failed and would fail many times before I could. I pushed at her with my nose. I was playing with Ball when Thomas called for me. I rebelled. I didn’t go to him until he called a second or third time. I didn’t want to leave Ball. I guessed that to be a good boy I would have to, but when I stepped away from Ball, Thomas pointed and shouted her name.
I nudged her with my head trying to roll her to Thomas, and I did eventually. He called me a good boy. He called me that and scratched behind my ears how I like and rubbed my tummy like I love. He held up Ball and I gave her a lick. Thomas laughed and gave me a little tap on my nose with Ball. He threw her again, and this would go on. Him throwing Ball, me fetching Ball, and then Thomas giving me all the love I wanted.
Thomas and I would get tired, but Ball never did.
Ball is older, like me, but she’s still shaped like rolling. I can’t roll anymore. It hurts me to try and it hurts Thomas to see me try. We play with Ball on days that I don’t hurt, but Thomas hasn’t thrown Ball far in a long time.
I’m with her now and I hold her under my paw, close to my nose, so I can smell my youth on her: the smell of grass, Thomas, and Ball, herself.
It is the last thing I smell.
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