he's just not...how to say it...interested in honing his fetching skills. With the lovely sunny days, I've been taking him out to play catch but let me say that it's a bit of a struggle which I hope the neighbors haven't witnessed--Reggie keeps his eyes on me when I throw the ball and by the time he's realized I've chucked it, it's hidden in the leaves or grass and he has to "use his nose" (my constant reminder during our sessions) to find the tricky thing. He'll retrieve it happily enough, however, and makes sure to drop the slimy dirt-and-decayed-leaf encrusted sphere into my hands for another round (that is, if some sweet-smelling blooms haven't distracted him, which they have more than once, I'm reluctant to say). But I do groan when the ball lands on the south side of the yard while he's pointed due north, eagerly but erroneously anticipating its final destination.
I should have realized that he's not the catch-and-fetch type when, asking him if he'd like to play this afternoon, I tossed the ball straight up only to hear it clout Mr. Reg on the underlip as it bounced right beneath him. The cheddar helped him forget his throbbing jaw but I did notice his gingerly grasp of the ball from there on after.
Thank goodness he's talented in so many other ways.
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