We celebrated Tootsie’s third birthday earlier this month. She got a ball–an exact duplicate of a well-worn favorite. I bought it months ago, but knowing how she is with a new toy, held off until her June 9th birthday to give it to her. She’s been playing with it pretty much ever since.

Giving Tootsie a new toy is quite an ordeal. Whether a replacement or something she hasn’t seen before, she’s absolutely elated. The new toy becomes the center of her universe–an obsession that lasts at leasts four days. I’ve never seen anything like it.

On a normal morning, Tootsie stays in bed while I wake up the house. Most of the time, she’s still under the covers when I return maybe five minutes later. On rare occasions, she’ll be waiting for me at the edge of the bed.

The morning after her birthday, she didn’t even wait for me to get up. She jumped from the bed around 4 a.m., ran into the living room, and returned with her new toy. Instead of crying for my attention–her usual ploy–she squeaked the ball.

Rewarding this highly undesirable behavior by getting up is not an option. The loudest squeaky toy in the universe ruled out going back to sleep. I put her back in bed–twice–to no avail. By 4:30, I’d had enough and got up. Sounds awful, but that’s only thirty minutes earilier than usual.

She jumped down when I got up the next three mornings and ran for her ball. For the rest of the day, she followed me around with the toy in her mouth. When I stop, she rolls or tosses it to me.

She’s come up with ways to get me to play around whatever I’m doing. If I’m standing in the kitchen, bathroom, or laundry room, she puts the ball at my feet and waits for me to kick it. Most of the time, I see it. Stepping on it when I don’t may well be the end of me one day.

No matter where I happen to sit, she’ll put the ball between my feet and wait for me to throw it. More often than not, she brings the ball right back to me–over and over and over again. Sometimes, she throws in extra challenges like rolling, dropping, or tossing the ball someplace to make it harder to get. To get me to join her, she’ll even act like she can’t get it–until I tell her I’m not coming.

To give myself extra time between throws, I’ll wrap the ball in a blanket, place it in a box, and then put the box on a chair. I don’t get much time anymore. What once took fifteen or twenty minutes rarely takes more than a couple of minutes.

Weather permitting, we also play outside at leasat twice a day. The yard is still cool and mostly shady until around noon, so I shoot for at least twenty minutes. By 7 or 8, shade returns. It’s still hot, but cool enough to play for another 15 or 20 minutes.

We also go for two fairly short walks every day. She rarely freaks out anymore and seems to enjoy the outings. Getting her to venture from our usual routes, however, is a challenge–so much so I rarely try.

Behavior problems are few and mostly revolve around her relentless desire to play. She’s much better about taking no for an answer. The bigggest issue now is anticipatory whining when she knows it’s time to play or get a treat.

My little girl is all grown up–finally. She’s a lot more laid back now, but still sometimes tap dances on my last nerve. It’s more me than her any more, but I’m getting better. I’ll keep you posted. As always, thanks for stopping by.