Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘fetch’

A Fetch Too Far

“Here’s a nice story,” Spence says.

“The moral being – don’t litter,” says Admin.

“And we’re glad Lola’s okay.”

http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2011/12/hiker-dog-saved-in-dramatic-cliff-rescue/

Welcome Micro the Great (that was quick!) and Kip.

Fetch

I ran right over and dug up my lacrosse ball. You don’t see lacrosse balls that often, but they’re fine bouncers and chewing on them makes your teeth feel great.

I dropped the lacrosse ball at Bernie’s feet. At first he didn’t seem to see it; his eyes were all cloudy. I picked up the ball and dropped it at his feet again. His eyes cleared.

“Wanna play a little fetch?” he said.

Exactly.

Bernie picked up the ball, reared back and fired it up Mesquite Road. Bernie pitched for Army until his arm blew out, if I haven’t mentioned that already, but he still has a great arm, if you’re asking me. The ball soared away, finally touching down and making a bunch of those huge lacrosse ball bounces. It was still bouncing when I snatched it out of the air with one quick head lunge, wheeled around – my claws actually ripping into the pavement! – and tore off, back to Bernie, airborne almost the whole time. I dropped it at his feet.

“That was quick,” Bernie said.

We did it again. And again. And once more. And a few more times after that. And again. And once more. And a few more –

“Chet! My arm’s falling off.”

Uh-oh. Didn’t want to see that. We went into the house and drank some water, me from my bowl, Bernie from the tap.

From To Fetch A Thief.

Welcome Chancey, Mattie Faye, Friendly Dude, Indie (and pal), Spider (Scout’s friend).

Mary Carillo

“This is good news,” Bernie says. “Mary Carillo’s co-hosting the Westminster Dog Show next week. She just happens to be my favorite tennis commentator.”

I open my eyes. What’s this? Tennis? Several balls are within easy reach, the nearest under the couch. I dig it out, drop it at Bernie’s feet. He doesn’t seem to notice. I pick it up, drop it at his feet again. No reaction. I try again, this time dropping it on his foot.

“Chet? Want to play fetch? Is that it?”

Huh? I thought he did. But no matter. The next moment we’re playing indoor fetch, a fun game that never got played during the Leda days. Crash, bang, zoom. What a life!

Free Iggy?

Iggy’s in his window, watching. I’m out front of our place, playing fetch with Bernie. The lacrosse ball – I love it’s crazy bounce! Bernie pauses, armed cocked. He’s looking at Iggy.

“I’m a little worried about him, Chet,” he says. “So are some other people. Did you know there’s a Free Iggy movement?”

Not only don’t I know that, I also don’t have a clue what it means. Just throw the ball, Bernie!

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