Thursday, June 6, 2013
Skanky tennis ball love
It was virtually on its last legs (seams?). Whatever innards it had were long gone, thanks to a ginormous tear nearly circumnavigating its middle. In some spots, the felt was worn and matted, in others it was fuzzy and frayed, almost resembling a cheap day-glo green toupee.
It was love at first sight. Ben gently took the ball from Mrs. AM, froze and reverentially began to gnaw, ferreting out the ball's long -- and apparently violent -- history through taste and smell.
It made a very odd, hollowed "Skosh, skosh, skosh" type sound as it Ben rolled it around in his mouth. Very odd.
Ben refused to surrender the ball as we walked home, and we had to stop every now and then, while he rearranged his grip on it, testing for new sweet spots. Once in the backyard, he retreated to a far sunlight corner of the Back Forty, where he continued his ministrations till it was time to come inside.
The ball remained in the far sunlight corner of the Back Forty pending a Haz-Mat evaluation.
Fast forward a week. The ball and Ben are still one.
It's True Love. Skanky Tennis Ball-style.