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Barking Doesn't Solve the Problem

Funny and well done story at Wrigleyboys:

Like many men I love to grill. I like it best with a little bit of music playing in the back ground, a cold beverage near by and the boys playing contentedly in yard. There’s just something about fire and meat that is cause for jubilation in one’s heart, something that reaches back to the origins of time.

Recently during one of these momentary man-raptures I was taken away by incessant barking from our young, black lab Mattie. After closer investigation, I could see that Mattie had dropped her drool laden, mud and grass speckled, generally disgusting tennis ball at the edge of her hidden fence and it had rolled down the drive and across the street, leaving a distinct snail trail to its place of rest. I watched as Mattie became more and more frustrated, passing back and forth at the edge of the DMZ, momentarily looking for eye contact with any of the five boys and then returning her gaze to the ball, all the time increasing her volume and her cadence of barking.
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