I'm under suspicion again. The dog has some ridiculous recreational items that she spends much time carrying around and dismembering. One of her favourites is a hideous rubber hamburger, complete with gaudy condiments and a beige thing with dots that passes for the bun. Yesterday she brought it into the paddock and left it near the barn door. It has "disappeared" and she's blaming me. Typical.
Actually, I did take it, but she doesn't know that for a certainty so she has no right blaming me. It tasted horrible - just like rubbery dog spit. Jack and I passed it back and forth for awhile and then tested it to see how far it would stretch. Quite far, in fact, before it changed shape entirely. It has morphed into more of a hot dog. Now I have secreted it in an area of the paddock where SHE is unlikely to look. I got the lecture about how the dog comes from a deprived background, didn't know how to play when she came here and so on and so forth. HA! She has more toys than the average spoiled human child and I refuse to feel guilty about making one of said toys disappear. The drama continues.
Purloining the hamburger inspired me so thoroughly that I removed some of my old playthings from storage at the back of my room and have even gotten Jack to engage in some sporting moments with me. Today I took a red brush out of the tack room and pressed it against his face in an invitation to frolic - unfortunately it was bristle side out and it caught him on the inside of a nostril so he left in a huff. But I did draw him into a slow motion mock stallion fight, which we both enjoyed immensely. Note to self - he may be forty years old but he is still master of the choke hold. He can never be underestimated.