Take me out to the ballgame

In Chronicles #2 and #3 I introduced you to Mr. B, Cookie's lifelong companion, ward and wing man. And I may have mentioned that Mr. B generally hits the sack earlier than the rest of us, the 'sack' being an empty slot in the kitchen spice drawer.

Cookie is quite fond of this routine, and though we sometimes forget to put Mr. B to bed right after dinner, she will leave him on the kitchen floor, just below the drawer, as a gentle reminder.

And that is where she will park herself first thing in the morning, because nothing gets the day started properly unless Mr. B is out and about. Since Cookie can't reach the spice drawer, one of us must be the first to crawl out of bed while the other one desperately tries to grab a few extra minutes of sleep.

This is when the ballgames begin.

As the day unfolds, a great many games take place indoors, and Cookie has either invented or co-invented almost all of them. To begin she'll jump up on the bed and drop Mr. B somewhere near the lump of human burrowed beneath the blankets. Then she will jump back down and wait - patiently at first, then whimpering and ultimately, if there is still no response, barking.

This is designed to provoke some random kicking by the somnolent human, who will make an attempt to launch the ball into the air and off the bed, hoping to get a bit more rest. That is out of the question because, once this game has begun, the pattern will be repeated, over and over until everyone is up and awake. We have named this game 'Dog in the Box' (much like Jack-in-the-Box only with a ball instead of a clown on a spring). A good alternative might be Reveille Ball.

Next up is Gravity Ball. We adjourn to the living room with our coffee and Cookie and Mr. B sit in the big chair. Soon enough, Cookie grabs him and leans over the edge of the cushion, then lets go. The object is to catch him before he hits the ground. She's quite good at this, and it may fill a bit of time until Hall Ball begins.

Hall Ball came about because Mr. B's irregular bounces (remember he's got holes in both ends) make it somewhat risky to toss him around inside the house, where he might do some damage. But from the living room sofa there's a clear shot at the entry way, a fairly narrow opening behind the front door. Tossed in here Mr. B can take many a crazy bounce off walls and the small tonsu cabinet that occupies one wall.

Not to boast, but I've gotten quite good at Hall Ball. A perfect shot involves a bounce over Cookie's head, off the back wall, then pinging off the tonsu or the front door and back into the main room. She will have several opportunities to snag it along the way, but if she misses, it will return to me. Score one for me!

Then there is Bathroom Ball. This began as a hockey competition, with Cookie as goalie. She guards the door as I stand at the sink and attempt to shoot the 'puck' (Mr. B) past her. If she stops it, it's a point for her; if it gets past her and out the door, that's a point for me. Three points wins because that's as far as Cookie can count.

The hockey version of Bathroom Ball had to be retired after Cookie took a few hard shots right in the snoot, and I came to conclude that, plucky though she is, it wasn't doing any favors for her front teeth.

So the game evolved into Soccer Ball, which could in fact be played almost anywhere in the house where there was a clear path behind an exit door for her to guard. As you know, soccer is a hands-off sport. So my job is to kick Mr. B around or over Cookie and send her scrambling after him. A particularly good pitch runs from my office into the dining room, where Mr. B can slalom his way under the table and between the chairs. It's a difficult game, but I must point out that Cookie has a definite advantage, since I can only use my two legs and she can block with all four.

The best game of all (at least if you ask me) is the Disappearing Ball Trick. I hit upon this idea while watching a sleight of hand magician doing magic on YouTube. Here's how it works. While pretending to be warming up for Hall Ball, I switch Mr. B from right hand to left hand a few times, then behind my back a few times, with Cookie paying very close attention. Then – surprise! – both of my hands are out in front, palms wide open, and Mr. B has magically disappeared.

This sets up a frantic search, and I confess I may encourage things a bit by shouting "Where's Mr. B? He's gone! You'd better find him!" (Spoiler alert – he's been tucked away in the back of my pants.) No worries, all's well that ends well, and Mr. B is eventually found and we take a seventh inning stretch, with snacks provided.