Soccer Ball

              I was walking in town to get a hotdog from the street corner.  After I got my hotdog I decided to eat it across the street at the park.  I found an empty wooden bench to sit on and I slowly started to take small bites of my warm hotdog.  Then I heard a noise and I looked up to see a group of middle school boys kicking a soccer ball.  I stopped eating and looked at their directions but I was not interested in the group of boys, I was focusing on their black and white soccer ball.  Because it brought back happy memories.

            As a child I had my own black and white soccer ball.  In daycare I was the best goalie but once I started elementary school I quit soccer because the field was infested with bees and wasp.  Since I was very small I had a huge fear of bees and wasp, the doctors call it apiphobia.  I was very sad when I gave up soccer because I was really good at it, but eventually my soccer ball would become useful.

            When I was eight years old my family bought a six-month-old chocolate lab.  He was huge for his age and my friends were afraid of him but he was a gentle soul and minded his own business.  We named him Sam.  Very quickly Sam discovered his love for my soccer ball.  I would kick the ball and he would chase it, pick it up, and return it to me to kick.  But being a dog meant that Sam had huge, sharp, white teeth.  One time he returned my soccer ball to me with wholes in it and all the air drained out.  I was disappointed because I thought we had to stop playing but Sam just stood there and stared at me as if telling me, “Go ahead, kick it!” so I did and our play continued with a soccer ball without air. 

            One time when we were staying at our winter house for the weekend, I went in the backyard to play with Sam.  Of course when Sam saw me coming out, he quickly ran and grabbed the soccer ball.  Wait.  I said that correctly right?  A soccer ball?  Last time I check we did not have any soccer balls at our winter house.  I told Sam to drop it and I started at the light green and white soccer ball that no longer had air in it. 

            “Where did you get this?” I asked Sam and he just stared at me.  I then saw through the trees our neighbor’s backyard with a swing set, sandbox, and toys.  Oh no! 

            “Sam, did you take this from our neighbors?” and he just stared at me with his tongue sticking out.  Since the air was already gone from the soccer ball I did not see any need to return it.  I picked up the ball, kicked it in the air, and Sam went to get it.  Our neighbors never came over and asked us if we had their lost soccer ball.  We kept it until it was so torn; we had to throw it out. 

            Time passed quickly for Sam.  By the time he was seven, he could no longer play because of his hip dysplasia.  Even though I kicked the ball he would desperately try to get it but eventually I stopped kicking the ball for him so he could rest outside.  Nine days after Sam’s birthday he passed away, the old dog lived to be nine years old. 

            Eventually the boys in the park picked up their soccer ball and decided to leave.  I went back to eating my hot dog and once I was done I threw out the shiny, silver, tin foil that it came with.  I started to walk home and I told myself that wherever Sam was he was happy, probably chasing a soccer ball that would never run out of air.