I Dare Not Hope
I may have mentioned that when we adopted Gibbs, my friend Karen (who has three dogs in the five to ten pound range) gave us about a million toys that her dogs weren’t using. Today, she gave me some more. In the pile was a brightly colored star-shaped frisbee for dogs.
First, he waited nicely for it:
Then I threw it, and he chased it (ignore my dried out lawn):
Ran it back. It’s bigger than his head!
Then he wrestled it down:
(He also took it to the bushes to show his imaginary friend, so it is now filthy, but nevermind.)
Ten minutes of this and he was totally worn out.
I have never had a real frisbee dog. Shadow found no joy in running and Dallas didn’t have the focus. I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but seriously. This dog is fast.
In other Gibbs news, he had a Mexican standoff with Spooky the Cat and totally got his ass kicked. I didn’t actually laugh, but I absolutely let it happen. I am happy to say that he took it like a Big Boy – no whining or crying during or after. I hope he has learned his lesson, but am not holding my breath.