Play

What began as a strategy to keep our young dog from destroying our home came to be a regular part of everyone's day. 

For many years, if we were doing something to amuse ourselves but not the dog (playing Civilization on the computer, say, or having a nap), Molly would nag at us -rather, nag at Bruce - until we relented, stopped what we were doing, and threw the ball for her. 

Or she would play with some other toy.

Or with some other person.

Even when Molly was well past the years where she might need to turn her unspent energy to trashing the place, Bruce played with her for about an hour every day after he came home from work. 

When we moved from our penthouse condo to a town house condo a few blocks south and east, a new dimension was added to the concept of play indoors. In the old place, we threw toys down the hall. In the new place, we threw a ball on the second floor landing, so Molly could fetch it and then push it down the stairs. She considered this to be enormous fun.

It was also a good game on the couch.

Outdoors, Molly loved tidying up parks by chasing squirrels up trees. On nice Sundays we would oblige her and go over to Queens Park or the Allan Gardens; we never let her off the leash in those parks, so Bruce would have to pelt after her like mad when she was in hot pursuit of a squirrel. 

Playing with the dog was the best of all the good parts of having her in our lives. Grown ups without children don't have many opportunities to enter that boundless but protected realm of pure play, where all effort is directed at simple enjoyment. There's no accomplishment; there are no consequences; it's just fun.

To read how Molly managed to play in winter, click here.