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Dead Softballs

Tuesday 04/25/2006 10:09 AM

In the book, I write about The Graveyard of Lost Softballs. Today's image is a picture of some of them.

For years, I'd take Chaunce (and Higgins or Sheriff, depending on the year) to a nearby baseball diamond. From time to time, he'd find a softball in the grass and bring it home.

Funny thing was, he almost never brought the softball of the moment into the house. Inevitably, he'd scramble out of the car and head for the high grass (there is some green thumb name for that grass — it wasn't uncut... it's supposed to be that way... money grass maybe?) on the left side of the yard and unceremoniously drop the ball deep in the green, hidden from view.

Some time after The Red Dog shuffled off his mortal coil, my brother-in-law George was doing some yardwork for us and started tossing out softball after softball after softball. We have some of them in this old flower pot on the front steps.

File Under: Chauncey
Music: Johnny Cash "American IV: The Man Comes Around"

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