Away from here to another land.
Oh, this land in which we live,
Where people love and are meant to forgive".--old Cranberries song
In our dog Bea's world, the complexities of life boil down to quite simple things. She brings the tennis ball that says something like "air dog" on it. She lifts it high into the air. Then she drops it ceremoniously, so that it will bounce to a halt at my feet. I pick it up, and toss it across the living room, so that it thuds off the wooden door. She chases it excitedly, tries to catch it in mid-air, failing which she grasps it on the ground with such paws and teeth as are necessary. Rinse. Repeat.
If I roll the ball rather than throw it so that it bounces, her pace slows to a walk but she makes a direct beeline for the ball, rinse, repeat.
She rarely tires of this game, or of a related game involving the tossing of a tiny hippo doll toy. She doesn't mind that the hippo appears to be wearing a tutu, either. If I tire of the game, she grasps a bone-like chew toy,
and gnaws it for time on end.
When it's chilly and the play is done, she'll hop up on our sofa. She'll cuddle up with me, with her head buried between my forearm and my torso. I'll watch television while she rests, until she hears the garage door, or possibly even the cry of a distant coyote.
When the day is done, she'll spend some time on the little circular dog bed placed beside our bed, before adjourning to the crate in which she sleeps during the time we work to reinforce her good habits and de-emphasize a particular and fortunately rare unfortunate habit.
I like the way she enjoys her life.