This is Jacob and Katy searching for I don’t know what in the back yard. It looks as if she found something though; it could be a grasshopper or worm. Jake is coming over to look at it–whatever it is.
You have to admit they were very cute. Katy, like me, loved being outside, especially when she had someone to play with. Jake always played with her when he got to come over. Did I mention that Jake is mom’s grandson? If I didn’t, I’m telling you now. They (Katy and Jake–not mom) grew up together–Jake is now a senior at Smithville High School, which is in Texas. When Jake wasn’t around, Paul or mom would play ball with Katy.
Katy, like me, loved to play ball. She (so mom told me) had so many balls, she never knew which one to play with first. She had footballs, soccer balls, basketballs, squeaky balls, sparkly balls, plain balls–oh, she really had a lot of balls. She was taught to catch a ball when it was thrown (me, unless it’s close, I won’t even try to catch it). When Katy got bigger, she could run very fast, Paul would throw a ball, and Katy would catch it. I bet that was really something to see. Mom said Katy looked like a golden streak running across the lawn. But, she certainly didn’t look like that when dad wanted her to swim with him. As a matter of fact, Katy, like me, would run the other way.
She, also like me, didn’t like the water; there was too much of it. She preferred to swim in mom’s bathtub where the water was warm and had lots of bubbles (like me, too). Besides, mom always let Katy have a ball in the water with her; I don’t want a ball while I’m taking a bath. When I play ball, I play ball, and when I take a bath, I take a bath. And, mom said Katy always smelled so good when mom finally took Katy out of the bubbly water; mom doesn’ tell me that. She would get a towel and dry her as much as possible (she was very hairy like Wooly and unlike me), and then mom would brush Katy’s hair all the while talking to her about how pretty she was and how much she loved her. Those were good days.
Not that nowadays are not good; they are. But, like mom, I miss Katy.