Every night, while the bath is filling, I play fetch the ball with my dog, Henry. All I need do is start the water and no matter where Henry is, he comes running. I like to play Words With Friends, a scrabble-like game, on my iPhone. I had games going with two or three different players and I decided between throws, I would work on my moves. Well, Henry didn’t like that. I’d throw the ball. He’d fetch. But, on his way back, his little paws would slow and he’d stop. He wouldn’t bring me the ball. I admit, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It wasn’t the first time I’d tried multitasking while playing ball with him, and it wasn’t the first time he’d reacted like this. However, it was the first time I realized Henry was trying to tell me that those few minutes—the time it took to fill the bath—were his. All his. And I needed to Be There Now for him. I put aside my phone, and played ball.
On Oct 7, 2011 Lorijo Metz wrote on Giving Somebody Your Heart, by Anonymous:
Every night, while the bath is filling, I play fetch the ball with my dog, Henry. All I need do is start the water and no matter where Henry is, he comes running. I like to play Words With Friends, a scrabble-like game, on my iPhone. I had games going with two or three different players and I decided between throws, I would work on my moves. Well, Henry didn’t like that. I’d throw the ball. He’d fetch. But, on his way back, his little paws would slow and he’d stop. He wouldn’t bring me the ball. I admit, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It wasn’t the first time I’d tried multitasking while playing ball with him, and it wasn’t the first time he’d reacted like this. However, it was the first time I realized Henry was trying to tell me that those few minutes—the time it took to fill the bath—were his. All his. And I needed to Be There Now for him. I put aside my phone, and played ball.