Her favourite ball had been lost in the bushes,
In spite of the brambles, the thorns and the rushes,
We’d looked for it everywhere, to no avail
And the small dog was sad with no wag in her tail.
For almost a month she’d refused to play ‘fetch’;
With the air of a glum, inconsolable wretch
She had ducked when I’d thrown every ball that she had,
And believe me, she knows how to make me feel bad!
Then the ball guy comes round, so I warn of her grief,
And he looks at the doglet in sheer disbelief…
She is wagging her tail and her sorrow’s worn thin
As she drops a new ball at his feet with a grin.
She has groomed it and fetched it and chased it with glee…
Why couldn’t she just do the same thing for me?
I may feel redundant, but also feel joy
That she’s finally chosen a new special toy.
It just goes to show, though, that fixing your fate
On that one single object is closing the gate
That can lead you to happier places and dreams…
And focus is not always all that it seems.
The small dog has so many balls she could chase
But she only saw one, that no ball could replace…
Until love and laughter had shown her the way
She’d almost forgotten the best way to play.
It isn’t the ball that is thrown, for a start,
The joy’s in the sharing that comes from the heart…
Forgetting obsession and choosing a ball
Left one small dog bouncing, in no time at all.
Action shots of Ani by my son, Nick Verron