Dynamic duos

Animal etiquette is easier than human.

Dynamic duos

 Now that our boat is sold and gone, Angus and Dante have the entire backyard to run unimpeded. It's as big as the small dog park I take Angus to after vet visits. Longer by about 25 feet. Which is the exact length a hound needs to gain speed of sound. Dante counters with stop, drop, and roll. It looks like Angus took him out, but in reality Angus was jettisoned forward by a log rolling Dante. Angus turns around after running into the fence. He seems hopeful that there will be Dante body parts scattered every where. Alas. There is only a drooling Dante with a big pittie smile.
 Time to tag team. I jump into the yard with a favored ball. Just smaller than a soccer ball. It has geometric shapes inward. A dog can grab anywhere and get a good mouthful of grip. Angus sees the red glory in my hand. Dante sees Angus see and takes position to my right, but 10 feet behind. Dante crouches. He waits. He has zero plans on running.
 Angus bolts off the deck like an Elon Musk rocket. Runs to the other side of the yard looking over his shoulder. I am Tom Brady. I throw aiming for a pocket just beyond a hound. Angus leaps and nabs it midair. Lands. Spins. And runs straight for Dante.
 Dante's legs quiver. He yips a growl of anticipation. Wait. Wait. Wait for it ...
 Angus dips to Dante's right to no avail. Dante pitches himself full body into Angus' head. He dislodges the ball from Angus' mouth, knocks Angus lateral, steals the ball, and runs the opposite direction.
 Angus spins again, gains on Dante grabbing some of the ball still attached to Dante's mouth. They run, like matched buggy ponies. Growling, drooling, pacing each other, full on run. Matched tongues waving under their portion of ball. They turn hard left at the fence. You couldn't train matched ponies better. They run, still attached. Matched. Growling. Drooling. 110 feet of matched stupid pony action.
 Angus wanes. He releases his portion of the ball. Dante pitches left, runs a loose semi circle to head the other way. He barks a mouth full of ball. Angus doesn't join.
 Dante stops, drops the ball, barks. Waits. He barks, noses the ball toward Angus. Waits. Angus is busy gacking up sand, pitch, and leaves. Dante grabs the ball, runs back to Angus. Drops the ball at his feet. Growls and falls over on his back and whines like Paris Hilton at a private rave she's not invited to.
 The barbarians have lined up at the fence seeing that I'm just standing there doing nothing. Without a yellow bowl. Obviously I need to get to work for them.
 Angus finishes gacking. And falls sideways on top of Dante. A fur sack of inanimate dog body. Roman Greco Wrestling ensues. Growls get louder. Growls sound threatening and savage. Never underestimate the terror growling of a pittie afraid of white feathers. He's afraid of everything except growling.
 Angus runs full court, Dante runs after him eyes crazed with lust. Angus turns at the fence, eyes dazed with hound thoughts, heading back. Dante shoots into the air to slam into an oncoming Angus. They both fall straight down.
 Meanwhile I'm on the other side of the fence with a yellow bowl feeding the barbarians. The Gullfather calls down.
 "You disappoint me. My family had needs earlier and now you choose to feed ducks, not the family. There was understanding between us. I am hoping I have not misunderstood your word. It would be shameful if something would have to happen. To you."
 "Gullfather. My word is good. My dogs are ridiculous. You see the problem, I hope."
 "I see the problem is not mine. Tony Two Toes, my nephew, he is a concern to me. And so he is a concern to you. It would be good for you to keep your eyes open for Tony. Give him what I would, but now look to you to give. I'm sure you can agree with my concerns and expectations."
 "Tony Two Toes will have my undivided concerns, and service."
 "Hmmm. Yes. We are done here. Your dogs are not. Is that one dog's name Five Legs?"
 "Shit. ANGUS!! Put that way! Get off Dante! Dante!! Get some class!"

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