The Call of the Jolly and Red Thang

JK had a visitor for a few days this past week, Sib L. She calls Buzz “Boozie” and they know each other from way, way back when Sib L was just 14 years old. Here are J and Sib L in the picture of me. 

Buzz and I showed off for her constantly, wrestling and growling, playing tug of war; she is a cool customer and doesn’t make a big fuss of us for no reason.  We love a challenge, so we kept ramping it up, getting more and more crazy, until finally one evening, it got a little out of hand there by the couch where she was sitting; and Buzz was master of my domain in the most ridiculous, ‘jolly’ position ever, so J said This isn’t Fire Island, boys, and banished us to the outdoors where we had to cool off in the hot sun.

Oh, we loved having Sib L here. So did JK. They all talked nonstop; there never seemed to be a time when they didn’t have something to say. If Sib L’s bedroom door was open, I would go in to visit her while she was sleeping. Just to check on her.  It was very fun. After she left yesterday, I wandered around looking for her. I think J did too.  J just loves having those sibs around.

I got a note on my last blog about my feet!  All the way from Nebraska, from Mae and Oliver’s lady, about hot spots. Well I was all excited about that because to me, Nebraska IS a hot spot, one of the best I’ve known. You should see the pond. And the horses, so gruff-worthy if I see them out the window.  And the chickens!! Oh, the chickens. They sure can run; I don’t understand why my herding them didn’t go over well. Anyway, J actually does have hot spot spray for my feet.  She got some from the vet last year; it was the first thing they tried.  It works about as well as anything else, just okay. That’s why the vet is puzzled.

But lately I don’t have the energy to lick my chops, let alone my feet.  Something new has come into my life, something J calls the Red Revolution.

It happened last Tuesday.  J and Sib L had gone to a mall. There they found a place that makes keys out of very cool shapes.  At dinner, J and Sib L showed K his new house key.  It was a pistol! J says you have to have a concealed keyring permit to have this on your person. She laughs like crazy and K just looks at her when she says things like this. 

Anyway, so J on a whim said, I’m going to make sure this fits in the front door and went to the front door and opened it, just as the UPS lady was about to ring the doorbell, startling them both.  J says this is probably the first time the UPS lady has been met at the door with a gun key toting mama – and the UPS lady was very intrigued and examined it and laughed and said she is going to get one for her husband. 

But I didn’t care about pistol keys! The UPS lady had a very big box that she gave to J.  Oh, I love UPS people and their boxes!!  J said, what in the world?...and brought the box inside. When J saw the label, she said, OH, my word, I can’t believe how big this is, I never expected… Maxie, what could this be?  (I think she knew.) She got a pair of scissors from the kitchen and K took a picture of me by the box. It was seriously like Christmas morning.

Buzz and I watched J open it.  Buzz says he didn’t smell any biscuits and got bored pretty quick. But I just put my nose into that box and inhaled…plastic! Round!

A ball! A HUGE RED BALL. My own Mars! Wait just a second Maxie, let me get it out of this bag…Oh, look it says JOLLY BALL! Jollyball!

Jollyball!  I learned the word instantly.  I jumped and whined. Give, give!!

We have to do this outside, this thing is way too big for the house.  So K, Sib L, and J left their dinners and we all went outside, where J tossed the ball off the deck into the yard.  I raced down the steps and went to grab it like I have every other ball I’ve known.  It rolled away from me. I ran after it, trying to get a mouthful. It rolled further. I batted at it with my paws and tried to jump on it. It squirted out from under me.  That thing was fast! So fast! 

Far in the distance I heard Sib L, K and J laughing like crazy, but my world had stopped except for the contest between me and a huge red ball. 

I have never run like that, even chasing the chuck-it ball off the dock, or the chickens in Nebraska, or the deer we sometimes see when I’m off the leash… or even squirrels. The Jollyball has a mind of its own and runs wherever the yard slopes down. It bangs into trees. It clangs against the fence. It’s heavy. I had to learn very quickly that if I wanted it to obey, I had to use my shoulders and body to herd it in the right direction.  And if I push it with my nose, it runs from me like a fat red squirrel. Talk about hot spots. After ten minutes or so, I was panting so hard that my tongue almost hit the ground, and my legs were so shaky I could hardly stand.

Hon, will you turn on the hose.  K went over and twisted the faucet handle, then sprayed water in my direction. I wobbled over and stood in the coolness of the stream.  But in the back of my mind I could hear the lyrical call of the Jollyball: ¯Maxwell! ¯ Come over here….¯come o-on…try and get me…¯

and I was off and running again, herding Mars, chasing the hot spot. I barked and yipped at it. Didn’t make any difference.  It teased and taunted me, rolling wherever it wanted.

Finally JK said Done, and I was almost relieved. They picked up Jollyball and put it on the counter in the garage. J told K, It’ll have to go into the same category as the chuck-it ball – monitored time with it, take it away when it’s done.  He doesn’t seem to have an off button.

Since that night, J and I have worked with the jollyball and I have a little more control if I want it. But mostly I love pushing it with my nose, snapping and growling, while it flees.

Then something else happened. A couple nights ago, J was playing with me, making me sit, then rolling Jollyball a few feet. I would race over and push it around a while, then herd it back. I’m getting pretty good at herding it. 

What the heck…? Maxie, come here. Come. Sit.  What’s on your nose?  Why are there red spots on your white muzzle? Oh my word, you have got to be kidding me.  You’ve herded the jollyball so much that you’ve rubbed the skin off both sides of your nose!  I had? I sure hadn’t noticed. OK, time for a break. We’ll have to let your nose heal. Now those are a couple of seriously real hotspots, straight from Mars.  She blotted my nose with a paper towel dipped in cool water. It felt pretty good. I let her do it as long as she wanted. 

So now JK have to limit my time with Jollyball so my nose doesn’t get any rawer than it is. Buzz says Raw Is Not Healthy For Dogs And Other Living Things. Except raw carrots. Then he chuckles like he has said something very clever. Kind of like J and the concealed keyring permit. I don’t get him sometimes. 

So while my nose scabs over, and the fur grows back on my feet (it is), I lie on the floor vent and doze.  In my dreams, in my exhausted dreams… I’m a black and white blur on the green grass--chasing the Jollyball, rolling it in front of me, flying, flying, flying to Mars.