Baxter's Balls

Another episode in the life of Baxter, a West Highland Terrier

The day that we adopted Baxter in May 2017, the Fuzzy Paws Rescue director met us in a parking lot. Baxter’s owner pulled her car up too and stepped out with Baxter in her arms. She teared up as she handed him to us.  She gave us a little blue blanket and a bag of supplies which included three blue balls. “He loves to play ball,” she told us.That afternoon, we sat in our backyard in Boise, Idaho and threw the ball over and over for him. With exuberance, he brought the ball back again and again. 

We learned soon that he could smell balls. The first time I took him to the vet for a checkup, we were escorted to an examination room. As we waited for the vet to come in and check him out, he kept going over to the door of a storage closet, nose down, and whimpering. The vet noticed that when she came in. “He probably smells a ball,” I commented. She opened the door. Sure enough, on the floor, lay a green tennis ball. She tossed it to Baxter. “It’s yours,” she said, laughing.

Whenever I sat on the patio to throw his ball, he’d bring it to me and drop it at my feet. “Put it in my hand,” I told him, holding forth my hand. He learned to place it in my hand, groaning a little as if to say, “All right, if I must, you old person.”

A few years after adopting Baxter, we moved to Washington where I’m closer to my family. My mother is ninety-two and lives in her own home. My brothers and I take turns checking on her and making sure she gets her medication. Baxter always accompanies me. We have a procedure we do when we get to her place. I work on unhooking his leash while he twists around and around. Then the same thing while I dress him in his belly band (just in case he’s tempted to mark his territory). 

Upon accomplishing those two tasks, he runs to the laundry area in the kitchen and waits. I retrieve two balls from the top of the dryer, one orange and one green. I hold them out to him, one in each hand. “Which ball would you like?” I ask. He sniffs one, then another. Then he places his paw on his preference for that day. My mother never gets tired of seeing him do that. “He understands every word you say, doesn’t he,” she says.

“Yes,” I laugh. 

The great thing about Baxter is that he brings laughter into our lives.