Fun games...

When The Dog & I are in Genoa, most evenings, we go downstairs to the garage and I throw The Dog's Special Ball around. It's yellow and it has these spiky things on it. They are akin to a LARGE gum massager. Frankly, I would think those spiky things might hurt The Dog's tongue... and his gums too. However, he does not seem to mind. The Special Ball is covered in his own brand of Weimaraner drool. So, The Dog is very fond of it.

The Objective of this exercise... My Objective of this exercise, I should say... is...

A) The Dog can get some badly needed aerobics in before he turns into a Michelin Dog. You know, The Dog insists on two meals a day + treats. I do try to reduce the quantity of these meals... since he hates to w-a-l-k lately... but, if "The Dog don't see what he expects" in quantity AND in bulk, then, he comes to wherever I am in the house and HE BARKS AT ME until I remedy the situation.... forthwith...

B) We can have additional Special & Private Moments for bonding beyond the nearly attached-at-the-hip variety we already enjoy. I have never considered myself to be all that much fun to be with, but, since The Dog arrived on My Doorstep... with much thanks to The Short-person's generosity for My 50th Birthday... I have come to think of myself as pretty darn fun... and mightily generous too, what with  interrupting The Cocktail Hour to throw a darn ball in a subterranean garage!!!

and...

C) I can grab a bottle of white wine out of The Short-person's garage. Why they are housed there is a mystery. The Dog thinks that the purpose of The Short-person's open garage-door... besides sniffing that the beat-up ol' AUDI is OK... is so he can prance about & show the four walls that he is Master of his Special Ball...

Oh... what a Good Dog you are, Moses! So Brave! So Talented!! So fierce too!!! 

I do not have the heart to tell him that the walls could care less. Anyway...

The garage in the basement of our palazzo is ideal for these sorts of shenanigans. It is as long as a bowling alley which, as a matter of History, it once was. All one has to say to Folk in these parts is...

Oh... we live in the building of the ex-Bowling of Genoa...

and they nod their Italian heads in understanding. The 100 meter long garage gives ample room for The Dog to skid while scrambling for his Special Ball without colliding with much but a stray motorino. Look out, Moses!!! Good that there are hardly any vehicles running about. Not so good about the noise his overly long Weimaraner nails make scratching the slick concrete of the flooring. This doesn't happen much, however. No. The Dog feels that after he has retrieved his Special Ball once or twice, and pranced about some, it's time to go back upstairs to bed... i.e. please note the attached photo. However...

I have a bottle of an excellent Gavi white wine in hand so, I am more than copacetic to ascend. Gads.