The events of the following account occured on what was a long, hot and sunny day - July 3, 2009. On this day Jonathan, Colin and I put in what I recall was about 10 or 11 hours of work, mixing concrete, moving rocks around and carefully placing them in our growing wall. (We're still not done, by the way. Turns out making huge walls takes some time...) Our mindset by 5pm or so was "must... finish... full... coursssssse." And by 6 Anna came to check on us: "You guys done yet?" Uh... 7pm: "Can I throw some burgers on the grill for you?" Yep... just gotta do a little more clean up. Anna explained to us later - while finally chowing down on delicious burgers while out on the porch in the light of the setting sun - I just couldn't see you guys work so late knowing that you'd have to go home and make dinner yet. [Well shoot, we should work 'til 7 more often!]
We sat and ate and talked. What a great way to spend the beginning of the weekend of the 4th. We all spent time reminiscing, and the three of us former Goshen students took joy in sharing about all the stupid stuff we used to do together. One such memory was of all the crazy variants of croquet we used to play - on campus, off campus, down the dorm halls, super-tiny, super-huge, special ball croquet, points-for-hitting-the-RD's-car, etc... (My personal favorite added rule: if you screw up a shot but then proceed to yell a profanity and throw your mallet in the air AND if your mallet handle sticks in the ground... you get an extra shot. I have yet to see it happen, but lord knows I've tried...) When the time came that the meal could be stretched out no further we discussed further evening plans. Movie? No, let's do something outside. Hey, we have a croquet set. And the rest of the evening was booked.
Never mind that by this point it was quite dark outside. Flashlights and headlamps in hand (and on head) we set up some wickets, crazy style of course. There were five of us - the three of us boys, Anna and Evan (Anna & Lance's son) - so we should have an extra ball. We should play with a "special ball." (Another point of clarification: when one hits a ball through a wicket, he or she may then proceed to hit the special ball once, either attempting to knock his or her own ball further toward their goal or attempting to hinder opponents.) But we're missing the sixth ball. Shucks. Well this game isn't as crazy as some of the stuff we were talking about. We sat thinking, one or two of us absentmindedly tossing a ball up and down. Google (our dog - I should have a post devoted to him some time. He's quite the character. For now, suffice it to say that he likes to play fetch.) looked on and whined with interest. And thus dogquet was born.
"What if we said (the way any good children's game is created) that Google was a hazard? If he touches or moves a ball you have to leave it?" Okay, we all said, not yet dreaming of the implications. Since Google likes to chase anything that moves, it would be inevitable that he would go after a ball sooner or later. But he could be just like a golf hazard... And so we began. And then we realized that Google was not just like a golf hazard. No, one cannot coax a sandtrap. Nor can one distract a pond. But Google on the other hand...
Quickly things got more interesting. Colin spent most of his time convincing Google to carry Jonathan's ball into the vineyard. Anna and I soon took the lead, Evan close behind. Soon I was sent into a thistle patch. Google wasn't interested. And it seemed that more and more attention was spent on Google and shouting conflicting commands at him than on the actual game. We often forgot whose turn it was. It was much more interesting to see who was winning the "Fetch, Google, fetch!" v. "No, over here Google!" contest. Certain strategies were developed. Some favored waiting for someone else to make a shot and saying "fetch" immediately after. Some tried to get Google to fetch rocks and other things to keep their own ball safe. And somehow the game progressed.
To avoid belaboring the absurdity and chaos of the scene, I will just say that Evan completed the course first, became poison and quickly eliminated Jonathan and Anna. Things weren't looking good. There were three contenders left, but Google was not done playing, and so I geared up for the last hurrah. I made it to become poison, but Colin was right behind me. His shot cleared the middle (middle being a relative term with our unusual setup) wicket and he too was poison. "Fetch, Google!" I urged frantically. And bless his little heart, he fetched and brought it right back to me. And that was the end of Colin.
Now for the awkward dual poison ball duel. (My friends and I have played this game enough to analyze such situations. Consensus seems to be to go straight for the opponent but do it hard enough so that if you miss, you are not an easy target yourself. Fortunately Evan was not of this school. Unfortunately, the grass was tall, and I'm not a good shot.) Several passes with no deaths. Google helped me once; perhaps he could do it again. Evan shot and missed. Fetch! And there it was: the perfect, guaranteed shot. I started praising Google before I even made the finishing blow that granted me victory. "Good boy! You're such a good little fetcher! Yes you are! Yes you are!" Kisses were exchanged and Google got to be on my good side for a few days. I even dumpster-dove him a Navajo taco the next day.
Game completed, foes defeated,
(and feeling kinda like I cheated.)
(and feeling kinda like I cheated.)
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