“Just one last time, puuleeeze”.
Those eyes, pleading, soft, deep brown, and wide with excitement. Beagle eyes. Impossible to resist even though it was the last time five times ago. But he is staring intently at the ball. Then tilts his head sideways and side-eyes me. Rigid in anticipation. I smile and relent.
“Ok, this is it. Last time. I mean it.” With an aching shoulder and arm, I pick up the once bright yellow ball, now mottled brown and soggy. And I heave it as far as I can.
With sheer unbridled delight, as though it’s the very first time, Trooper the Beagle tears after it. My throw slams into the fence and bounces off. Trooper launches himself to snatch it out of the air.
Before his jaws can capture it, a torpedo known as Snoop snags the prize at the last second. If dogs could giggle…. Snoop, a Beagle with some obvious Basset hound lineage, would be chortling with glee at that moment.
Expecting some doggie outrage from Trooper, I brace myself for a scrap and prepare to intervene. But Trooper just stops and watches his brother gallop away with a proud, rascally jaunt to his step; the prize ball firmly clenched.
Trooper simply stands there. He glances back at me, and I swear he rolls his eyes in annoyance, but also acceptance. And I see that this is part of the game, or at least he tolerates it as part. And he knows Snoop’s interference move will not last.
Trooper knows that Snoop does not have the slightest interest in playing fetch. “He’s not a “closer”, his facial expression says as he keeps his eye on his long-bodied brother. Then he starts to follow him nonchalantly. No fuss. No whining. No attempt to reclaim the ball. He’s almost whistling; he’s that chill.
Then, when Snoop’s attention shifts to an irresistible fragrance detected by his Basset-Beagle superpower nostrils…, the ball falls out of his mouth like he wondered how it got there.
Trooper knew this. This is not his first rodeo with the ball-thieving brother. He has learned to bide his time, pretending not to care, casually exploring the lawn, but laser-focused on Snoop waiting for his doggy ADHD to kick in. Then he just trots over and reclaims the prize.
And back to me with those, “Just one last time, puuleeeze.” eyes. That also convey his truth. “Snoop stole it this time. So, it’s not a real throw. It didn’t count as ‘one-last-time. Don’t you see??”
And he has a point.
“Hush up shoulder. You’ll be alright.”
