The stories are real.
No names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Jolly Ball
March 20, 2009
I batted my eyelashes at Alfred this morning asked, “Honey, do you know what tomorrow is?”
“Nope,” he quickly replied.
“It’s our anniversary.” I gentle reminded him.
“Well, that’s a first.” He said.
“I know this is the first time I remembered the date, but you don’t have to be so crabby about it.”
“How many years have we been married?” He questioned.
“Got a calculator?” I inquired.
“What year did we get married?” He probed even further.
“I don’t know…..1991, 92, oh no wait, I’ve got it 93.” I said proudly.
“Wrong, you get nothing again this year.” He said, enjoying my incompetence where holidays are concerned.
“Well, maybe I’m just so happily married that I lose tracked of all the wonderful years we’ve spent together.” I am now trying desperately to shroud the fact that I have never remembered what day, date or year we tied the knot.
“Nice try, you can have that Jolly Ball you’ve been asking for since the horses got here.”
“Wait one minute Mister,” I snapped. “I need that Jolly Ball for Moose. Moose is your horse.”
He stared at me and I knew another anniversary was ruined. Defeated I grabbed my keys and headed over to Tractor Supply. I was in a quandary over the many colors Jolly Balls come in. Finally, I had it down to two, red or purple. I went with the red. Happy as can be, I drove home singing along with Garth and Trisha, “In another’s eyes.”
Once home, I waited for Alfred to finish his work related phone call so he could see Moose receive his new toy. I hold it out and the jackass takes off like I pulled a knife on him.
“What are you trying to do scare him to death,” Alfred asked, as he ran into the yard to comfort the big lug.
I picked up the Jolly Ball and walked down to the barn wondering how I had been so wrong about Moose not enjoying a Jolly Ball. He picks up everything he gets near. Lawn chairs, hay stands, and coffee cups. I’m really tired of being squirted with the hose. He picks it up by the nozzle spraying everyone but himself. He is now chewing on the handles of the wheel barrel. I get splinters. The boy needs a Jolly Ball. I put the Jolly Ball down in the middle of the yard and scoot into the house to spy on him from the kitchen window.
He slowly munches grass in a circular pattern as he inches toward the Jolly Ball. I’m cheering him on from the kitchen. He’s about to touch it with his nose and ‘WHAM’ Natasha shows up from out of nowhere and kicks him right in the butt. My neck extends like E.T.’s and my eyes bulge out of my head. I race into the yard to see if he’s okay. I am not the best person to be checking on him because the Mafia Princess has just kicked him and her two legged female side kick is running through the yard directly towards him. He puts his head up, nostrils flaring, and he is backing away from the Jolly Ball and me as fast as he can.
“It’s okay Moose,” I say, extending my arms in a bear hug embrace. “Mommy just wanted you to have a Jolly Ball to play with.” I gently rub his neck and he begins to calm down. I put the Jolly Ball on the side of the barn and go back into the house to finish some cleaning I had started two days ago.
I take a quick peek into the yard.Moose is pushing the Jolly Ball with his nose.Suddenly, Natasha comes from behind the barn and kicks him again. I have a few colorful metaphors that escape my lips as I race into the yard again.
“NATASHA!!!” I holler, “What the heck are you doing?” She turns her butt in my direction and sashays away. “Geez, Moose, I’m really sorry. This is my anniversary gift. I really thought you would like it.” I put the Jolly Ball in the feed room hoping this will save Moose’s life.
All is quiet until dinner time. I open up the feed room door and the Jolly Ball rolls out. How can this be I think to myself? It has a handle on it. It just waddled out the door, handle staying on the side until it hits the ground. Now it’s kind of rolling and popping up and down from the handle hitting the ground, that’s when Moose and I hear hoof beats bearing down on us. He jumps in his stall and I jump in the feed room. ‘WHAM’ Natasha kicks the feed room door. I pull my cell phone out to call Alfred to come and save us. The calls keep dropping because the barn is metal. More colorful metaphors are now spewing from my mouth. I talk to Moose through the slits in the wall, “Do you see her?” I ask.
The feed room door is suddenly jerked open and I wheeze as I inhale breath from the fear that Natasha has learned how to open doors. Alfred is standing there asking me, “What the heck are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I say.
“You’ve called me four times and when I pick up you’re not there.”
I try to think quick, “My butt called you,” I said. I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket.
“Put it somewhere else. I have work I need to finish.”
He turns to walk away and Natasha joins him in a walk to the gate, her butt sashaying in the wind.
Moose and I step back into the sunshine. I turn to him and say, “She’s out of control.”
He stares at me like I’m the jackass now and I quickly add, “I’ll take the Jolly Ball back.”