The scary thing is, I didn’t even know it was possible to tear up a tennis ball.
As some of you may know, I own a young Jack Russell terrier. His name is Leo. By “owning” a young Jack Russell terrier, I mean, of course, that I live with a Jack Russell terrier, which is a whole other thing. I’m not sure living with a Jack Russell terrier has an equivalent. I can’t remember when my daughter was 5 years old, but I’m going to say that living with one of these dogs must be similar to living with a 5-year-old human.
I’m a dog person. I love all dogs (well, except for the mean ones). Whenever we print a photo of a dog up for adoption, I want to run down to the shelter and scoop him up and take him home. I believe all dogs deserve a good place to live. They are our friends. No dog ever started a war. No dog ever hijacked an airplane. No dog ever crashed a financial system.
The other day, at a local restaurant, I spotted a homeless dog. It was just wandering around the parking lot, looking for something to eat. As I sat inside having lunch, I watched the dog consume a strip of nasty-looking plastic — probably part of a wind-blown garbage bag. Needless to say, I felt pretty bad.
No one else paid the dog any attention, so I left about a quarter of my cheeseburger uneaten and took it outside. By the time I got to the parking lot, the animal had gone around the corner, perhaps in search of another strip of plastic. I left the food on the ground for the dog to find.
I’m a bit of a cat person, too. I essentially got Leo as a “brother” to the last cat I owned, who unfortunately did not make the move to Oklahoma. (He reportedly has a new family.) I think owning both a cat and a dog makes a good balance. One loves you immensely, the other couldn’t care less about you as long as there is a steady supply of food. It makes for a very Zen household.