HAVING A BALL
He is a simple creature. At first glance you could almost be forgiven for thinking there wasn't much going on behind those bulbous, glassy eyes.
He lumbers around on his short stocky legs, eighty pounds of solidly wound muscle. He flops onto the ground, he huffs and puffs, then he sleeps.
He seeks companionship, a little extra love from mum and dad. Despite all the power and strength, he really just wants the same creature comforts we all do.
For now he is comfortable lying here under this table. A nice softball has materialized out of nowhere and so far they haven't noticed. He's been working it for almost five minutes so far and it is already coming to pieces. He smiles and a low grumble of contentment rises up from his depths.
He gnaws some more, peeling back the outer shell of the ball and working his way in towards the core.
His ears perk up suddenly, that sound, a rustle and shower of delight. He scrambles up to his feet and barrels towards the glass patio doors where he pauses to examine himself momentarily before letting loose a series of low, rumbling barks.
It's feeding time, and he has worked up an appetite shredding that ball. He'll finish that later, but now, it's eatin' time.
The door slides open and he pushes past the legs and scrambles to a stop before his waiting bowl of food.
He can already feel the drool building up and leaking out of the corners of his mouth. He didn't realize that having a ball could make him so hungry. He buries his face in the food, snapping and lapping it up.
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Love itt! And Gus loves you unkie mike! Xoxo
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