Okay, so I've been loving playing with the old, but new, REAL tennis ball that Mom resurrected over the weekend. Playing "catch" is my favorite game and that's, like, totally rare for a shiba. Unlike most shibas, I have a strange drive for catching and retrieving, even though it's not something I was bred to do. Fievel, on the other paw, really couldn't care less about catching or retrieving (or playing AT ALL) because she's just no fun. Case in point: Mom calls us over to play and she'd rather stare at my butt. (Note #1: Notice how I'm so quick and attentive, she couldn't even get me in the shot?!?! Note #2: What is on the television?)
Anyroo . . . I'm all about the old/new/REAL tennis ball. Every time Mom sits down, I run over with the ball in my mouth just waiting and longing for her to throw it to me. She can't resist my charm, and honestly I can't blame her. Here are some stunning shots of me in action. (Note #3: Notice that Fievel is no where to be seen. She's off in the corner doing something bad, no doubt.)
I'm so sporty, I can barely handle it. I was having THE TIME OF MY LIFE! Mom gave me so much praise and even went so far as to give me some POPCORN! This was awesome. But this also piqued the interest of a certain shiba with a foul case of the zacklies. Ugh - it was at this point that Fievel totally messed with my game. Check it out. (Note #4: Um, is it obvious to everydog that she didn't want to actually PLAY, she just wanted THE POPCORN???)
She is so irritating. Anyroo, Mom--who is a total softie--felt bad and tried to throw it to both of us (knowing full well that Miss Priss would let the ball hit her in the face before she lowered herself to doing anything sporty) and that little biotch actually gave me a fight!!!
I couldn't believe it, but she somehow managed to get it past ME! The greatest shiba goalie known to man!!! I don't think I need to explain the rest, it's pretty much self explanatory at this point, right? Fievel got the ball and ran away with it and destroyed it and pulled all the awesome fuzzy green stuff of, blah, blah, blah.
And now, my precious new/old/REAL tennis ball looks like this. (Note #5: I don't know if my sad and battered self could look anymore pathetic than it does in the background of this picture.)
Can't a shiba just play with his tennis ball? I'm telling you, she's killing me.
HUGE, MONSTROUS sigh,