When I was a kid, I wanted to be a big league pitcher.
Obviously, that didn't work out.

There we were on a perfect dog day; playing ball at the river.
The dogs and I were having the best game of fetch ever.
I'd throw the ball as far as I could out into the lake, Rud would swim
after it, I'd sip my beer and then Magnolia would steal the ball
from him as he got back to shore.

We were all winners.

Then I decided to see how far I could toss that ol' ball.
Did I still have the ability to pass for the touchdown or pitch
a perfect game?
I could almost hear the crowds chanting my name as I wound up
and unleashed a massive throw... right into the saw reeds.

Rud swam to the edge of the reeds and then gave a desultory swish
of his tail and started back. No tennis ball is worth cutting up your paw
pads over. He trotted up the beach, shook himself off and sat down in
front of me.

Then he gave me this look.

Now I always make sure to carry an extra tennis ball in the kayak.
I don't think my fragile ego could endure that look a second time...