I thought I would share a series of Poe photos taken just this morning. There has not yet been enough caffeine in my morning to make the analogy between Poe/tennis balls and Ann/yarn. It’s there though.
So, as you may or may not know Mr. Poe is addicted to tennis balls. My mother-in-law feeds his habit by bringing over the ‘duds’ from her tennis league.
This is how it goes …… Poe has tennis balls. Lots of tennis balls. He develops brief yet intense passions for particular tennis balls. Only he can differentiate between them. He will attach himself to one tennis ball and carry it with him through the day and even weeks. No one knows what happens – perhaps they get too stinky for even him to abide. Or maybe they lose their bounce. Or maybe they aren’t fuzzy enough anymore Once he is through with them, that’s it. It’s over and he turns his back. Poe is a cruel, cruel lover.
It’s time for a new one!
happyhappyjoyjoy
*I have not forgotten your daily pig ….. I need to get outside with the camera!
purlingswine 
Where’s my Lu?!?
What!? You turn your back on yarn?
That’s pretty funny.
Does he eat the fuzz off them? My dog can’t have them anymore (despite her love of them) because she just eats all the fuzz. Um – who ate the carpet?
Umm…Poe sounds like he lives life near the spectrum.
I love that 3rd picture–he looks as though he’s pleading for the canister to be pulled out so that he can get to the balls.
thanks for sharing- can’t get enough of those pug shots!
Poe is so cute, gotta love the squishy faced ones :)
~snort~
Poe is so cute. But you have 2 dogs? Who knew?
That is too funny! I love that last shot.
I had a choc. lab who had the same love of tennis balls – but when she was done with one she broke it so you knew the love was over for that one….
Love the pics.
Greetings from the Owattana Library in beautiful downtown Owattana MN! I have PLENTY of pig fodder for your blog straight from the MN State Fair – oodles of sweet pink piglets for your viewing pleasure to come soon.
Also got you a little surpriiiiise!
xoxoxo
We don’t have a tennis ball stash, some days we are lucky to find one. Jo doesn’t care what it looks/smells like as someone is throwing the ball, till their arm falls off is just about long enough.