Every time they come for a visit it’s a family of five humans and an extra critter. My daughter, her husband, three children and a little black Cockapoo. As good grandparents, we have supplies for everyone, and especially for Lola: a red plastic dish for food and a blue one for water. And a doggie guest bed.
What are the bare essentials without the fun and games stuff? So we keep a can of tennis balls to play “fetch,” with Lola. “Fetch” is her her favorite game.
After the last visit I noticed one yellow tennis ball left behind in the yard just under the dining room window. No need to scoop it up and put it away; we’ll leave it there for their next visit.
What a surprise I had yesterday as I was pulling some weeds in the back yard. A gray squirrel leapt from a branch and bounded over to the tennis ball. Seeing him close to the ball clarified how large the ball was, compared to his head. And yet he tried to get his jaws around the ball.
If we were witnessing this scene in Atlantic City or Las Vegas we’d get odds of about 100 to one against his being able to mouth the ball. After several tries, though, he managed to beat the odds, pick it up, and carry it across the lawn to his secret squirrel spot.
There, I assume, he will bury it and wait patiently for next spring, when he hopes with all his squirrely heart, that a tennis ball tree will appear just where he planted that jaw breaking “seed.”