Bobby's Tale - The Athlete
Bobby was a athletic dog. I sometimes wondered if I could enter him in a dog competitions for something because he had excellent coordination and loved to exercise. Unlike many other dogs, Bobby had no fat, he was all lean muscle everywhere. His legs were extremely sturdy and no matter at home or outside, he never had a lazy walk, it was always just this very rthymical stride and he looked very light!
When he ran, he shot off like a bullet and then always hop for a couple jump like a light bunny with his little pointy ears flopping in the air. He was frisky, mischieveous, funny, smart, and most of all happy.
When it was time for a walk he would go to pick up his leash and dropped it right in front of me. When he got to outside, he always couldn't wait to run and so he always pulled on the leash. He would use all four arms and legs and pull with all the muscle power he had and yank me along with him. Towards the end, it just became one of those flaws that I adored because I loved him so much. Can you blame a silly little dog that LOVED being outside and running around? He knew every single dog in the neighborhood. Which house they lived in, which gate they hang out at. Some owners cut out a peep hole for their dogs on the wood fence, so he always peeked into them to see if a dog was in there. At my old house, a couple of neighborhood dogs were his play buddies. I'd let him off the leash in front of their metal wire fence. They would both ran to one end of the fence, bark once, and immediately ran to the other end and bark again, and they did this back and forth, it was a game that Bobby invented. Later one of the play buddies moved away, weeks after he was gone, Bobby still went up to their fence to see if the dog was out there. It made me sad. He loved to walk on the curb, and jump on short fat fences. He would jumped on them then jumped off then jump back on as we walked, and that was his little game.
Whenever there was a cat or squirrel, he wanted to chase after them. If he was on a leash and he couldn't, he would scream, remember Bobby didn't bark? He screamed.
Bobby was a excellent tennis ball player. He knew the word "ball" from very early on. All I had to do was whisper "ball," then he would have this surprised look like, "omg omg omg mommy is ready to play ball, gotta go find them!" And then off he ran to look for them. On a lazy day when I didn't feel like playing with him, he would drop one tennis ball in front of me, and if I didn't move, he would go and find another tennis ball, somestimes where we hang out there would be a bunch of tennis balls in front of Bobby. I also sat on the couch sometimes to throw the ball in the room, Bobby would fetch the ball and jump on the sofa to bring the ball back to me with fierce energy, often placing the ball right inside my hand, but nobody tought him that. He did it on his own. When it was serious play time, he would gauge the tennis ball with his eyes, stepping back according to how far he thought the ball would land and shot out to get it when I threw them. And what did he do if the ball got under the bookshelf or sofa? He'd reached out one paw to try to grab it, or he'd go to the room immediately behind the sofa to see if the ball came out on the other side of the wall.
Today is exactly one week since Bobby was gone. I wonder where did his little spirit go? The world seems to never have noticed that he had ever existed, but my heart is sad and lonely without him. Nothing will be the same ever again.