A few weeks ago, Sarah, my daughter, brought me a dog to “look after” for a bit. John, my grandson, is happy as a clam to have him here with us, but I have had my doubts.
Taz is an English bull dog that was given to Sarah by the owner because he had an eye problem that the vet wouldn’t work on because Taz has a hole in his heart making the eye surgery too risky. Indeed, the doctor didn’t give Taz long to live. Sarah, always an easy mark when it comes to four legged critters, took him in. That was over two years ago. And I’m happy to report that he’s doing well. And after only a few weeks, I want to get the sticker that says “Who rescued who?” and put it on my car.
His claim to fame is that he plays a mean game of soccer. He arrived here with one toy – a beat-up partially deflated soccer ball. And he is the original ball hog. No passing from him. It’s his ball by golly and if you try to take it, well, let’s just say he’s as stubborn a bulldog as you’ve ever meet.
I love to play soccer and wish I had a big yard so we could run around. As it is, I’ve wounded myself twice as we play in and around a picnic table, an antique Z, and two bicycles. It’s a little crowded, but it’s what we have. We make do.
Until the other day. Apparently, Taz decided to explore and poked his big fat head under the fence near my neighbor’s orange tree. And he snagged one that was growing on a branch quite low to the ground. It’s so big that I thought it must be a grapefruit, but its bright orange color gave it away. My Dad would have said it’s a Texas orange since, of course, they grow everything bigger and better in Texas than we do in CA. Regardless, Taz loves having two soccer balls and actually seems to prefer the organic one as he will let me have the old dirty rubber one if it looks like I might get close to the orange one.
Shortly after his escapade, which reminded me that his name is after all a short form of Tasmanian Devil, he decided to scoot all the way under the fence and go for a visit. Problem! My neighbor doesn’t have a gate, so Taz found himself FREE once he escaped from my enclosed area. Fortunately, my neighbor had company visiting who saw the escape and alerted me. I was able to coax Taz back into my tiny yard with his soccer ball. And then I had to barricade the fence line with trash cans and a fold out cot pending a trip to Home Depot for some more permanent means of keeping him in.
I wasn’t negligent. Really! If you could see the distance between the bottom of our wooden fence and the ground and compare it to Taz’s girth, you would say – any observant person – would say there’s no way that big Telly Tubby of a dog could get under there. But by looking at him, you’d also think he wouldn’t play soccer very well either, but I’m here to tell you differently. When I kick the ball, he can get from the back door, down the driveway, to the gate in little more than a split second – leaping over any obstacles like a gazelle before bracing himself to come to a screeching halt – ball back in mouth, looking at me with a victorious grin as if he’d just made a goal in the World Cup.
Sadly, though, he realized today that the organic soccer ball was indeed edible and decided to consume it. Interesting enough, he only ate the inside, the pulp, and left the rind as a souvenir, I guess.
Gotta get me a yard!
