Tuesday, June 19, 2012

But it's MY tennis ball!

Last night I was doing some packing, and my Yorkie, Quincy, noticed that there was a fresh, clean tennis ball in the suitcase. He must have smelled it before he ever saw it.

He has at least a dozen normal or mini sized tennis balls hidden around the house. Certainly, he is not a deprived pup.

Yet, he demanded this one. When I left the room, I returned to the sight of Quincy inside the suitcase, tipping and growling frantically at the ball, now stashed inside a mesh pocket of the suitcase. He was trying to scratch it free so that he could take off with it.

You have to understand that the ball was in there for a fairly medical purpose. One of the muscles between my shoulder blade and spine often wakes me from a sound sleep, with a shriek, as it spasms rather painfully.

I've never had any medication to make it stop. Does such a drug even exist? And how do you make a doctor believe that it is agonizing when the spasms come at 3 am or later?

I had a glass apple paperweight the size of my fist which I would lie upon to forcefully flatten the offending muscle. It worked, but it always left a bruise.

Hence the tennis ball. Same size, better shape, no metal stem to dig into soft flesh. Easier to sleep on. Believe it or not, after that back pain awakens me, I'm exhausted enough to sleep with a tennis ball pressed next to my spine.

I travel with a ball in my suitcase just in case. It's especially lonely to wake up in a strange place with pain you can't stop.

Well, I gave the ball to Quincy to play with, thinking I'd get it back when he tired of it. But the little sneak played with the ball for a noisy five minutes and then hid it from me.

I have no idea where it is. Probably in his secret hiding place under my bed with all the rest of "his" stuff that he's stolen from me.

It looks like it is time for me to buy another can of tennis balls. Maybe this time I'll have sense enough to keep the can off the floor. He commandeered the last can, removing the lid and shaking until the balls were set free for playtime.

He's a thief, but I love him.

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