A Real Wild Child

Taylor has gotten to the point where he just plays fetch with himself. We’ve got a spot in the forest where we always find a tennis ball or two. If we’re lucky, we might find one that makes noises. I set us up on top of the hill, throw the first pitch out after which Taylor just scampers down the decline chasing after it. He brings it up; and once just at the top of the hill, I order him to “drop it”. He drops the ball, and it goes rolling back down the hill. And Taylor goes back to chasing after it. Cycle repeats until he’s out of breath.

At almost ten years lived, he still has a lot of puppy in him. At almost ten, he’s still a real wild child.

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