My blind dog Ray, not knowing what was going on, but sensing that SOMETHING FUN was happening, joined the pack, always about a half a turn behind the rest. They would be barking at the guy with the ball as he threw it, and Ray would be yelling his head off as he trotted the stretch between the two guys, generally headed in the wrong direction.
The bulldog tackled the guy who fumbled the ball. The shepherd took off with it, followed by the pack of dogs and the guy trying to get his ball back. Ray yelled. People laughed. The guy eventually got his ball back and the game broke up. We stayed at the park for over an hour. Ray was having a blast and didn't want to leave.
That night I was working on a project in my office. Gregg yelled upstairs "Ray's limping again. I massaged his leg a bit." "Give him an anti-inflammatory!" I yelled back. About half an hour later I went down to check on the hound. He was stretched out, sound asleep in his bed, snoring. Gregg had given him a pill and thrown a light blanket over him as he slept. (Do I have a great husband, or what?)
This morning, Ray was in fine form. Except for the slightly swollen leg, it was difficult to tell that he'd been under the weather the night before. We stayed home from the park even though Ray was obviously bored at home. It's going to be a tough convalescence while we wait for his knee to recuperate fully.