"Hi, my name is "Scrapper" and I am a "Frisbie-holic"

Scrapper LOVES his frisbee. You cannot say the word in his presence. To do so will only result in a flurry of scurrying paws as he runs and searches through the house to find the closest one. We have resorted to spelling: i.e., "Have you seen Scrapper's F-R-I-S-B-I-E?" and code words: "Where is the F-toy?" Alas, Scrapper has now learned these feeble attempts at concealment and now knows that they ALL mean the same thing - PLAYTIME!!

 

We don't really know when the obsession began...somehow it just developed without us doing much about it. Soon it became a full-blown addiction...

 

 

Daily, Scrapper will run 'til he is panting and breathing hard, his quest for the small round disc never ceasing. Ninety percent of the time he will catch it on the fly. It is only when we incompetently throw it into the lime tree or on top of the hammock that he is forced to suffer us fools...which he always does in good humor. Then he retrieves the precious icon and returns it to us, always beseeching, "One more time!" If we fail to give the appropriate response, he politely barks, though just once, to remind us that our duties are not yet through.

 

"Come to me, my beauty!"

Oh, to live a happy life, with your only concern when next to eat or play, or to sleep or be loved!

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Photographs Copyright 2003