I Dare Not Hope

I may have mentioned that when we adopted Gibbs, my friend Karen (who has three dogs in the five to ten pound range) gave us about a million toys that her dogs weren't using.  Today, she gave me some more.  In the pile was a brightly colored star-shaped frisbee for dogs.

First, he waited nicely for it:

Then I threw it, and he chased it (ignore my dried out lawn):

Ran it back.  It's bigger than his head!

Then he wrestled it down:

(He also took it to the bushes to show his imaginary friend, so it is now filthy, but nevermind.)

Ten minutes of this and he was totally worn out.

I have never had a real frisbee dog.   Shadow found no joy in running and Dallas didn't have the focus.   I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, but seriously.  This dog is fast.

In other Gibbs news, he had a Mexican standoff with Spooky the Cat and totally got his ass kicked.  I didn't actually laugh, but I absolutely let it happen.  I am happy to say that he took it like a Big Boy - no whining or crying during or after.  I hope he has learned his lesson, but am not holding my breath.