Allow me to walk you through a typical game of fetch with Murphy:
Murphy has a favorite ball. It is multi-colored with rubber spikes that allow it to bounce and roll in a quite unpredictable way.
His typical routine is to run really hard after each thrown ball. After every 5-10 tosses he comes and lies down, rolls over, and awaits a belly-rub. All the while the ball remains in his mouth, blocking his airway, causing him to loudly breathe from his moist nostrils.
Just before preparing to chase down a few more balls he will stop by the 10 gallon bucket that holds his lukewarm drinking water. He will drink way too much, proceed to run way too fast and then, well, he will throw up. This happens on a daily occurrence, not much to write about really.
Allow me to now walk you through tonight’s game of fetch with Murphy:
He gets in a few rounds of ball chasing and lies down. After the belly rub and before the drinking of the water I fed him a Milkbone, a rather large Milkbone, in which he ate like a peanut—rather quick and with very little evidence. He proceeded to fill up on water, run a few rounds, and then lie directly at my feet once more—this process usually goes on for an hour or so.
Not more than 10 seconds into his belly rub Murphy is throwing up. Not only was it the usual slimy, lukewarm water, but it had gathered within it several large chunks of a Milkbone (I presume it was the one I just fed him and not yesterday's). After I wiped the splatter off of my toes and lower leg I waited in anticipation.
What would Murphy do? Would he allow a good Milkbone to go to waste on account of a little thrown-up slime?
He briefly, and I emphasize briefly, surveyed the pile on the porch rug that he sleeps on, and, well…he licked around the slime, pushed the chunks of Milkbone to the outer edge and ate every last piece, again.
I gave him a good rub, said “gooood boy”, and threw the ball. Kim and I are so proud of the man he’s become.
Murphy says hi.
