Playing Catch

The hooligans with one of their latest victims

None of my dogs really play catch.  Moose has never learned what a toy is, frankly - I was hoping maybe the girls would be able to teach him, but he just has no interest.  Squeaky toys don't cut it, he doesn't want to tuggy, he's just a simple soul who wants to sit in someone's lap and contemplate the mysteries of the universe.  Generally from the inside of his eyelids. 

The girls do understand the toy concept - especially the squeaky toy concept (or as they think of it "fuzzythingmustdiediedie").  I wanted to branch out, though - see if I could introduce something for psycho puppy hour other than the nightly WWE matches that break out around 9:00 every night.  So, last night, I tried introducing Daisy to the idea of catch.  She has fallen in love with this little purple ball of fluff that Daniel brought home from a gay pride parade last year, so we tried chucking it down the hall.  She ran to get it, and brought it back (success!), I threw it again after giving her lots of positive reinforcement, she brought it back, was about to release it...  and Dancer grabbed it away and ran for a touchdown in the opposite direction.  Apparently, Dancer feels that the game of catch requires a goalie.