Letters From the Labyrinth 288

In hindsight, it was a mistake to teach Dallas how to play fetch. He is fascinated by the caps atop bottles of Deer Park water. If he hears me open one (and he hears everything), he charges across the house and stares at me expectantly until I throw the cap. Then he’ll barrel after it, scrambling to snatch up the cap in his jaws and trot back to me, where he then proudly drops it at my feet and waits for me to throw it again. If I am busy writing, and don’t toss it right away, he nibbles on my feet and ankles until I throw the cap again. Occasionally, he will hide extra caps under the rugs, carpets, or in my slippers. And then later, when we are trying to sleep, he’ll pull them out, hop up onto the bed, and drop them on me. He will literally play fetch until he runs himself to exhaustion.

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