Monday, May 4, 2009

Recently, me and Max escaped our routine for a jaunt to the hinterlands. I needed a break from the hustle and bustle of city life and, Max, well he just likes going wherever I go. Besides, country life gives him the chance to sharpen his wits and hone his hunting skills. He loves going one-on-one with nature.

Our friend graciously welcomed us to stay a couple of days, despite the unpleasantness of my dog's sheddies. I try brushing them away, but he just manufactures more. It's a loosing battle. I am resigned to living with fur residue. I realize it's really kind of anyone to allow him to sleep over.

No matter where he goes, Max has the uncanny ability to find a tennis ball. I used to wonder how it was that he would always have a ball in his mouth when he came to visit. Tennis balls don't grow on trees. I never seem to find them. So how is it that this little dog can always find a ball?

It's because he expects to. Max believes that balls are available to him in abundance. He keeps his nose to the ground, eyes scanning the landscape for that little green fuzzy sphere. You'd be amazed how many tennis balls there are laying around. Once he has gotten his use of it, he leaves it there for the next dog who comes along, knowing he'll find another one when he needs it.

And true to form, Max once again uncovered his joy. We were on a spur of the serpentine walking trails that snake through Peachtree City, where miles and miles of trails run through dozens of planned communities linking them all together. Max was sniffing out the wild life when he caught wind of something. He took off like a bullet into the thickets chasing the scent of something we couldn't see. He finally emerged, grinning from ear to ear, with a tennis ball in his mouth.

As much as he loved his visit, there's nothing Max loves more than his own territory. He starts to squeal with anticipation as we pull into the driveway. He can't wait to get out to patrol his fence, where a pesky possum hangs out and torments him every night. It's his evening gig, manning the fence in the back of our property, daring the possum and the kittie cats and whatever creatures of the night to come out and face him. Nothing can get past Max.

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