That Ball Had to Die
(photos taken at different times.)
When I'm sitting in my wicker rocking chair on the deck, I use the lounge chair as a foot stool. Trav usually gets a tennis ball and places it on the end of the lounge chair. I used to give the ball a little kick with my foot to roll it off the end of the lounge where Trav is waiting to catch it. He then places it back on the lounge, while giving it a nudge with his nose to shove it away from him and towards me.
(After the following incident, I switched over to using a plastic back scratcher instead of my foot.)
One morning, I didn't have on my shoes, and seeing as how my coffee hadn't as yet reached my brain, I was foolishly kicking the ball with my bare foot.
All was going well until I sort of missed the ball and Trav lunged for it. Unfortunately for me, one of his teeth hit a bony part of my bare foot. It felt like a small hammer had hit a raw nerve and I yelled "OW!"
As soon as Trav's tooth hit my foot, he froze. Then, after I yelled, grabbed my foot and said, "Travie, that HURT", he sunk to the floor, put his head on his paws and looked up at me from under his eyebrows.
Trav laid there for about a minute, looking at me. Then, he got up, picked up the tennis ball, walked over to the end of the deck and dropped it over the side. He turned around, walked back to the lounge chair and stepped up on it. He flopped down, looked at me and I swear he was thinking, "That ball hurt my Mom and it had to die".
