It’s still rainy.*  On our morning walk today, Peanut and I made futile attempts to stay dry.  My tactic was to wear a raincoat, his was to walk on the sidewalk to avoid rubbing his belly through wet grass.  He lasted about 5 seconds before something in the grass smelled irresistible.

Anyway, we were walking along, no big deal, and there it was in the middle of the road.  (Not a dead skunk, but if you haven’t heard that song, I fully intend to serenade you with it sometime… classic.)  A lonely tennis ball in the grassy median.

I know a tennis ball in a neighborhood full of kids might not spell sadness in your mind.  It had me a little concerned though.  See, there’s a standard poodle who walks through the neighborhood with his small dog buddy on a similar schedule to ours, and he and his friend are great.

The poodle wags and sniffs happily, and without fail, he carries a grimy tennis ball in his mouth.  When you pet him, he grins back at you around the tennis ball.  I’ve never seen him without it.  So seeing what appeared to be a slimy, dirty tennis ball in the median made me wonder about our friend.  What made him drop the ball?  Did he know where it was?  Did he have a shiny new replacement tennis ball?

I quickly realized how ridiculous it was to worry about that, but seeing it there made me think about all of things that stack up to make a neighborhood what it is.  I love those things.