One Dog's Tricks

Dover has several tricks. He does the usual: he sits, stays, lies down, heels, turns, and poses majestically when a passer-by stops to admire him. He brings in the newspaper every morning, exchanges the Peace when asked (using his left paw), stands ever so briefly on his hind legs and hops towards an extended dog biscuit lure, and, reluctantly, weaves in and out between my legs.

But his real tricks involve tennis balls. He is an expert shortstop, shagging balls from any angle with graceful leaps and twists. When he brings them back for more, he deposits them a few feet away from his partner, and gives them a determined swat with his snout which propels them into the partner's playing field. I guess that counts as a trick also.

His newest trick is in the water. He has braved the waves to find his quarry since he was a puppy, but now he stands mutely on shore until we hit a second tennis ball out into the sea. Then he plunges in, cuts a straight line through the waves to snatch the first, and with an expert eye, tracks down the second, captures it, and brings both in.

And then he requests a repeat. And a repeat. And a . . . .  

[The second ball is tucked into his
jowl behind the lead ball.]