Alert reader, Bolo, sent me this photo of hisself posing in front of this intriguing sign. Exotic Mangos... is there any other kind?
To paraphrase Stephan Sondheim, "Some doggies got it and make it pay, some doggies can't even give it away." Know what I mean?
It will come as no surprise to learn that I, Mango, have taught myself the sport of retrieving a tennis ball. Yes, friends, that's right. I did it totally on my own and I must say that I find it a most invigorating activity.
I am always quite enthused when I see the tennis balls come out. Note that momma has acquired a high lie scoop so that she can throw my Mango sized tennis balls without causing strain on her weak little muscles.
How, you ask, did Mango become a retrieving mastiff? Well, I will tell you that when PeeWee came home, momma had visions of sitting on the observation deck and tossing the tennis ball for the little dude and having him bring it back as a way to burn off some of his labrasteam.
To his credit, he does throw his entire wee self into chasing after the ball.
But he is prone to just running right past momma rather than returning it to her leading me to believe that she might have been duped into buying a faux retriever (I think it is too late for a refund).
Determined human that she is, I was quick to note that she had introduced foodables to lure the little chap near by and relieve his pointy snooter of the ball to make room for a snack.
Observe here his startling expression of labrajoy over finding a nommy tidbit about to join the rocks in his belly.
Ha, said I, if there are foodables involved, I am all over that action. Thus I found myself leaping athletically about the yard most anxious to return the tennis ball and receive my reward.
I even perfected my eye mouth coordination so as to avoid any unnecessary spinning and jumping.
Admittedly, my anticipation of a reward got the best of me in the beginning and I frequently dropped the ball prematurely which enabled PeeWee to swoop in and abscond with it.
I thought the safest course would be to approach momma (food dispenser) as closely as possible before trading the tennis ball for some livers or hot dog.
A WILDLY good strategy! Nommy!
I can even thwart PeeWee at his own game given my ability to concentrate on the trajectory of the desired object instead of dashing about in mad circles like some limited attention span doofus heads.
SCORE! Mango wins! I should call that retriever factory where PeeWee came from and offer up some of my Mango-ness to improve their bloodlines.
A note to any doggies who would like to emulate my large and figuring things out self. New tennis balls should always be broken in with a few good squishes. This soaks them enough so that they are a bit heavy and non spherical and no longer present random direction changing bounces.
After an exhausting game in the hot sun, nothing better than a nice cool,
wait a minute,
the midget is soaking in my water bowl!
Fear not, I was able to avail myself of a proper drink sans labracooties from my private water supply.
And there you have it. Mango, the amazing retrieving mastiff!
Mango Man! Oh yeah!
P.S. To see me in action, click here.