My friend and sitter Lynn came by the other day for a visit. This is a ploy Heather devised that’s supposed to make me think that just because Lynn is here, Mike and Heather aren’t necessarily about to leave on a vacation. Right. Like when Heather starts doing laundry and brings her suitcase up from the garage I’m not going to figure out what’s happening? Give me a break.
Lynn is more tuned into my thinking than they are. Knowing my fondness ball-chasing, she brought me a gift, even though she didn’t have to—the little crunchy treats she gave me would have been tribute enough for an afternoon visit. But the best gifts are the unexpected ones, and that’s the case here. I call my new ball Greenie (that’s what some people want to call Mike, but now he’s so old that he doesn’t like it anymore), and Greenie has barely been out of my sight since I got it.
Greenie, like Wiffie, is strictly an inside ball, but it doesn’t make the racket Wiffie makes when it caroms around the furniture and hardwood floor. Greenie is soft and has a hollow center, so it’s easy to get my mouth around it to gnaw on it. And gnaw on it some more. Having seen me eat my way through a bevy of those bouncy blue balls, Mike was wary, but thus far Greenie has lived up to the hype on its package: “Everlasting Fun Ball stops boredom with hours of interactive fun! Virtually INDESTRUCTABLE!” (I’ll be the judge of that!)
Chloë interacts with Greenie.
And wait, there’s more. “The Everlasting Fun Ball can be filled with treats, dog food, or anything your dog likes to snack on. Use it at meal time for interactive feeding fun!” These guys who package Greenie sure do love their exclamation marks, don’t they?
Regardless, I love the concept of Greenie as a rolling smorgasbord of doggie delights. In fact, I’d be glad to take Greenie out of my mouth long enough that Mike could stuff it full of food, freeze, and roll it through the living room, where I can pounce, reclaim it, lick all the goodies out and gnaw on Greenie some more. That’s what I did the morning Mike and Heather left, and Mike gave me Greenie with some frozen peanut butter and yogurt stuffed inside. It didn’t take me long to lick it clean, and soon enough Lynn was coming through the door for, I assume, several days of fun and lots of treats. Vacations aren’t so bad, really. I’m sure Mike is having more separation anxiety than I am.
Mike thinks Greenie is boring, because I don’t want to drop it out of my mouth so he can bounce it away from me and make me chase it again. He thinks Wiffie is more fun, because he has more to do when we’re playing. From my perspective, however, Greenie is exactly the kind of interactive toy I’m looking for—the eatin’ kind.
My only regret is that Mike didn’t stuff Greenie with enough of that good stuff that morning, like he finally learned to do with a Frozen Peanut Butter Boney. While he’s away, I’m going to formalize the recipe for him. Mike can be tough to train, with a stubborn streak wider than the Pacific Ocean. Eventually, he’ll learn.