Ball prints

Been out of town, visiting relatives for a few. And so much has been happening while I was gone that I hardly know where to start. Karl Rove/Judith Miller? The London bombings? Tour de France? So much to say, so little time in which to say it.

What I should be doing right now, instead of write now, is painting. My living room/music room needs a new coat. It's been 13 years since we moved into this decrepit old house, er historical and charmingly dilapidated home. This is the last set of rooms left to be painted--before the cycle starts again, of course. Mainly, I want to paint the rooms because they badly need a wall washing. And I'd rather paint than wash walls.

Short sighted, you say? Ha. You haven't seen my walls. The most scenic portion of my walls is (or would that be "are"?) my ball prints. Some people have finger prints on their walls. They have small children. Or perhaps big children who enjoy ritualistically running their fingers along the walls. I have those, too. But mostly what I have are ball prints. From my dog.

Actually, my dog doesn't exactly place the ball prints on to the walls. I guess my family does that. When throwing the ball for the dog. In the house. The wet ball that he has continually slobbered on over and over, salivating continuously as the ball is permanently ensconced in his great drippy maw. You see, Schafer the dog is a big baby. A very large, furry, intense dog infant. And his ball is similar in function to a baby's pacifier. Really, this could be one of those old SAT analogy questions. Pacifier is to baby as ball is to blank. The blank being filled in as "Schafer".

So, he's always got a ball in his mouth. Or wants a ball in his mouth. In fact, he can fit three (yes, 3) tennis balls in his mouth. He is part Doberman, after all, and has a rather large one. One of the most humorously annoying activities he partakes in involves finding three balls, lying on the ground, and trying to keep them all in his mouth so that I can't take them from him.

Guess you'd have to see him, frantically juggling them from mouth to paw to mouth, to get the full maniacal, and so humorous, effect. :-)

He begs incessantly for someone to throw said ball(s) for him. Out of the house, of course. And in the house. Which is where those ball prints come in. The whole game seems pretty simple, doesn't it? Throw the ball. Catch the ball. Drop the ball. Repeat. No ball prints involved. But some people in my home like to make it a bit more complicated. Vary the angle of return for the dog, keeping him guessing as to just how to catch, fetch, retrieve. If one whips the wet, dirty, slobbered upon ball against the wall, not only does it create a fetching (pun intended) print on the faintly maize background, but it toughens the game for the dog.

The dog then careens frenziedly from wall to wall, as he does not have the intellectual capability to project an angle and thus determine exactly where the ball will land. Hell, I don't have that capability, either, come to think of it. Guess that's why I'm not so great at tennis or moving large objects in small spaces without breaking holes into walls.

Poor guy. Guess he didn't know he needed to pay attention in canine geometry at doggie school. In fact, I'm sure we didn't get to canine geometry at his doggie school before he was ejected for his constant yapping. Canine geometry is the study of angles as they relate to canines, of course. For instance, what would be the shortest distance between Schafer (S) and plum pit (P), such that it avoids Mom's hand (M) grabbing said plum pit (P) prior to Schafer (S) grabbing it? Or just at what angle is the smallest possible space creates into which a dog's snout can fit into the door behind which hides the garbage can such that said dog can grab the foulest and most disgusting piece of garbage out of said garbage can?

The possibilities are simply limitless.

I've digressed, I'm sure. I think the point was that my walls are dirty, and a bit chipped, and in desperate need of a new paint job. Which I've not gotten to because I've been busy doing, um, stuff. Like writing. :-)

Until tomorrow,
Liz