Bela's BLOG

I am hesitating.  I am not sure whether I should pick up my beloved tennis ball or not.  I mean I love my tennis ball.  It is the first thing I think of when I open my eyes in the morning.  I carry it with me everywhere I go.  It is right beside me when I am eating.  It sleeps with me in my kennel .  Even when I go to bathroom, I place it right in the grassy area where I can see it.  But now, we have an issue a very big issue.  I stare at the tennis ball, hearing mommy call my name, telling me to bring the ball back to her.  I look at her and look at the tennis ball again.  Five minutes have passed; I finally take a deep breath, open my mouth and pick up the brown tennis ball.

I run to mommy, drop the tennis ball in front of her and wipe my tongue on the grass .  Mommy picks up the brown tennis ball, gives it a funny look, and still decides to throw it to the other side of the yard for me to chase it.  I take off, chasing the brown tennis ball, thinking in my mind whether or not I should pick it up again or not.  While my mind is running and my feet are busy chasing after the tennis ball, I still manage to keep an eye on mommy.  I see her look at her fingers, now covered with brown stuff , and wipe them off on her sport pants.

“Oops” I tell myself.  I find the tennis ball at the very end of the backyard and pick it up again.  Half way back to mommy, I hear her scream .  I have never heard mommy scream in such a horrified way.  It almost sounds like a giant spider is crawling on her body.  Mommy yells at me and commands me to drop my tennis ball .  I drop the ball right away and wipe my tongue on the grass again.  Mommy comes after the tennis ball with the water hose, like a firefighter who is putting out a fire .  The tennis ball is back to its yellow color once again.  I jump up and down, so happy that mommy has cleaned the tennis ball for me.  I am about to pick it up with my mouth again when mommy turns the water hose toward me, and snatches the tennis ball from the ground .

I run into the garage and mommy locks me inside.  From the window, I see mommy open the garbage can and toss the tennis ball away.  I whine, “Why Mommy?”  I loudly whine inside the garage.  Since mommy cleaned the tennis ball with water already, we don’t have to throw it away, right?  I continue to whine.  Ten minutes later, mommy comes in the garage and rushes inside the house .  The next time I see mommy again, she is wearing new clothes and her hair is wet like she just took a shower.  In her hand, mommy holds a toothbrush and toothpaste .  That night mommy spent over an hour brushing my teeth: only because I pick up a POOPY TENNIS BALL…..