Sunday afternoon, a sunny and beautiful autumn afternoon. Until Dougie Dog breaks from his leash. Running like the wind, down the streets of the neighborhood. Nearly impossible to catch him. He is fast and faster. And the millions of olfactory receptors in that big soft nose lead him onward! Then, like magic ~ he stops in a neighboring yard. The yard where Bailey, the two-year old German Shepherd lives. So we catch up. So we catch him.
How? Why? Like Dougie Dog ... Bailey leaves her tennis balls hither and yon, scattered here and there, all about the yard. It's a tennis ball that has stopped him. Caught his attention. He cannot resist. The tennis balls overcome all else. Tennis balls have power like nothing in the world!
And speaking of Sundays ... in our home, Sundays usually find us reading The New York Times. And the Sunday Review section, with op ed pieces is my personal favorite (especially as I am a politicaljunkie ...).
I really don't know what is right/wrong, correct/incorrect about quoting from the "news" so I hope it's alright to quote from an article here ... I am giving credit for it ... but this paragraph was so spot-on, and amusing, I couldn't resist! And if you have a Lab or most any dog , you'll most likely enjoy it, too!
Speaking with Steve Schmidt, a Republican strategist, Dowd asked him what bait Hillary might
dangle this time to get Trump to lose it ... " “Same
bait,” Schmidt replied. “I have a black Lab and when you show the black
Lab a tennis ball, there is fire in his eyes. He is going to get that
ball. He’ll do it a thousand times. No more than the Lab can’t not chase
the ball, Trump can’t not respond. He’s unable to not have the last
Given that Trump has dubbed so many women dogs, there’s poetic justice in comparing him to one.
Throw a tennis ball, the black Lab goes after it. But it’s not fair to compare Trump to a dog.