the propane tank behind Mrs. Diefendorfer's house.
Spot, Janey's little beagle/terrier mix, trotted up to her.
Janey said, "Good morning, Spot, my darling little doggie."
Spot wagged his rear and nosed his rubber ball toward her feet. Janey picked up the ball and threw it down the lawn. “Go fetch the ball, Spot,” said Janey.
Spot chased after the ball. He worked it into his mouth and trotted obediently back to Janey.
"Good boy, Spot," she said, holding out her hand. "Now drop the ball."
Spot crouched, his rear elevated. His eyes rolled upward exposing their whites. He looked mischievously up at Janey.
Janey said, "Give me the ball, Spot."
Spot made a playful lunge and blinked twice.
"Give me the damn ball. You know what happens when you don’t mind big momma."
Spot opened his mouth and let the ball roll onto the grass.
"That's a good boy," said Janey, looking the ball over for ick. As she reached for it, Spot snapped it up in his mouth. He splayed his front feet, pressed his belly to the grass and waggled his hindquarters.
Janey pursed her lips and set her fists on her hips. She glared at Spot. "Spot, if you don't give me the ball right now, you're in big trouble. I'm not gonna warn you again"
6