On my walk yesterday I came upon a fully-inflated football washed up on the riverbank behind the sewage works (more picturesque than it sounds). Time to show the dog a few of the old moves I thought.
After I'd fallen over a couple of times I decided to leave the dribbling to him (this being one of three things he's good at, the others being peculiarly tight involuntary farts and eating pooh - these two possibly being connected). So we played football for the two miles home, singing Dolly Parton songs, before booting the ball back into the river at the playground whence it had probably just come.
The circle of life indeed..
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