The Ball

Now that I am working from home I have taken over our one armchair and my storage ottoman has become the home of my computer and freaking awesome external hard drive. The armchair and ottoman are perfectly positioned in front of our sliding glass doors that lead to outside. And outside is Scooter.

Quick backstory...Scooter may really have an obsessive compulsive disorder. His first toy as a little puppy was a squeaky ball. I feel like his thought process with the ball may be as follows: "Oh my, it is my ball" "Is my tail waving fast enough to show my excitement to everyone?" " Wait, I caught a whiff of the ball over here...I can actually smell the trail!" "AHHHHH....the smell is glorious." (the AHHHH in my world is this ear piercing bark followed by smaller barks and this happens over and over again) So somewhere along the way any ball became this crazy obesessive toy. For awhile he got so crazy that balls were banned from our house. (It's a long story)

So back to my armchair. I sit working on my computer with my back to the sliding door. Then I hear a faint whimper which turns into a loud high pitched cry then on to a manic scratching on the door that makes me feel like any moment Scooter could bust down the door. So I put my computer down look over my shoulder and there he is. I walk to the door. He doesn't want to come in. He doesn't need anything. He drops the ball at my feet and gets a running start for the ball to come sailing to him through the air. And this happens maybe about 20 times during my workday.