The curse of the ball on the rope...

Something like losing a ball on a rope wouldn't usually be an important enough event to publish a post about, however, over previous months, we've managed to lose no less than FIVE of the blummin' things, all in close succession! A small ball on a rope is great as it's little enough to fit in my pocket when we go for a walk if I'm not taking the bag or dummies and other training kit. The first one was lost up a tree (yes, up a tree...don't ask..). Undeterred by this we purchased a second one which was subsequently lost at sea in Cornwall (again this was blamed on my throwing - but how can I help it if the waves took it?!). The third one was lost beneath the reeds and stinky mud in a scummy pond (Jet's fault, not mine). The fourth one had a narrow escape - it was almost lost in a grass and mud filled ditch (read trench - we have deep ditches around these parts!) thanks to my best friend's fiance, but just as we were about to give up hope, we spotted it. Jet was sent in to retrieve it and in the process got covered (and apart from the top quarter of his body, I do mean covered) in mud. Still, I was relieved to have got the ball back, thinking that perhaps our run of bad luck was finally changing. As Jet was completely filthy, I took him down to the river for a swim to clean him off and guess what...... we lost the ball in the river! AARRRRGGGHHHH! As James had purchased ball number 4, I felt guilty that it'd been lost (but not a bit surprised) and so went out to buy ball number five. Foolish Girl. On the first throw, the ball somehow detactched itself from its anchor so I was left standing with a poxy piece of rope with nowt on the end of it. God alone knows where the ball went. Think we'll have a rethink for another toy to take out with us.