(The following is a re-telling of the story J. told me.)

I was do some errands with Sasha — she loves going for a ride, even if it’s not anywhere she’ll actually visit — when she started to get very pushy about getting into the front seat. Her current joy is to ride with her front paws on the armrest between the seats, looking at where we’re going. Getting her to stay in the back seat, even to lie down, is a thing we’re working on right now, lots of commands along the lines of “get in the back,” “BACK,” and “lie down” accompanied (usually) by firm elbows pushing her back.

Today she was rotten about it; getting very pushy and wanting to climb into the empty front seat. Very distracting for the driver, to say the least. So I reached into my pocket where I’d stuck one of her balls before we left the house. Thinking it would keep her happily rooting about in the backseat, I tossed it over my shoulder. In a flash, she scrambled back and started trying to get it.

It took her awhile, and I was just starting to congratulate myself on successfully keeping her in the back seat, when I felt a weight on my right shoulder. Looking down, I saw the sweetest brown eyes and a big mouth holding her ball. Which she then dropped — right into my lap.

For the rest of the ride, if I didn’t move quick enough to toss that ball into the backseat, she’d do her best to climb into my lap to get it and play with it herself. (And she has a +20 bonus to her wiggle and root).

Ah yes, silly me, she’s a  retriever. I guess I’ll eventually remember that. For now — no tossing the ball in the car.