In Praise of the Squeaky Ball

Whoever invented the squeaky ball dog toy should either be revered or vilified; I haven’t determined which.

Our dogs constantly inveigle us to play. They bring tug toys and rubber bones and set them in our laps, hoping to prompt a game of fetch. They crouch, bunch and wiggle to entice us to wrestle. And they snitch slippers and dishtowels to goad us to chase. When their pestering and my growing to-do list drive me to distraction, I reach for my weapon of last resort: the squeaky ball.

It seems counter-intuitive to give a noisy toy to the dogs in order to gain a measure of peace. But once possessed of the squeaky ball they happily wrestle, chase and entertain each other, leaving me free to attend to other tasks at hand. Unless, of course, whatever I’m doing requires silence, thought or conversation.

Talking on the phone while pets play with squeaky toys is like trying to paint when you have the hiccups. You can’t predict the random moment when that jolt of sound will disrupt your rhythm and scatter your concentration. It can be downright dangerous when you’ve leaned into the dishwasher, dryer or under the bathroom sink and one stealthy pup sneaks up and honks that squeaker right behind you. Explaining how you got that goose egg on the back of your head is just plain embarrassing.

Sometimes Silence Isn’t Golden

When the dogs have a squeaky ball, my innate echolocation skills easily pinpoint their whereabouts. My mom-radar is quite adept at tracking rabble rousing in other parts of the house.

Until there is sudden silence.

No squeaking. Or barking. No bouncing of rubber or clicking of canine toenails across the floor. And, no more productivity for me, since I now must go see what they’ve gotten up to.

Inevitably, I find them lying flat on their bellies, peering mournfully under the dresser, their prized squeaky ball trapped out of reach. I drop to my knees, using one hand to fish around for the ball. The other fends off a bombardment of wet noses and sloppy kisses aimed at my face. If the recovery takes longer than a sweep or two, they will be on me like tag-team wrestlers in the title bout. As soon as I retrieve the ball I send it flying, hoping they will give chase.

Only to realize that I’m now involved in the game of fetch I wanted to dodge.