The Straight and Narrow

Me: Where’s the ball, Beau?

Beau: Why are you asking me? You threw it.

Me: Don’t be obtuse, Beau. You were supposed to run after it and fetch it.

Beau: And you were supposed to throw it in a straight line, Louise. Not my fault if the ball doesn’t go where you’ve aimed it.

Me: Don’t be ridiculous. It did.

Beau: Ahhh… and therein lies the problem.

Me: What problem?

Beau: Your idea of a straight line is remarkably crooked.

Me: Very funny. My aim is straighter than your path.

Beau: My path is not the issue. The trajectory of your throwing is suspect.

Me: There is nothing wrong with my trajectory.

Beau: Do you know what “trajectory” means?

Me: BEAU!

Beau: Just establishing the facts.

Me: The fact is, I threw the ball. You lost it.

Beau: I didn’t lose anything.

Me: Then where is it?

Beau: Somewhere along your trajectory.

Me: Oh, for heaven’s sake. Would you rather be right or happy?

Beau: Happy.

Me: Really?

Beau: Absolutely.

Me: Then why are you arguing with me?

Beau: I’m not.

Me: You most certainly are.

Beau: No, Louise. You’re trying to prove you’re right. I’m sitting in the sunshine waiting for you to find my ball.

Me: Your ball?

Beau: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Me: I’m not looking for it. You lost it.

Beau: You threw it.

Me: You were supposed to fetch it.

Beau: And yet here we are.

Me: What is that supposed to mean?

Beau: Sometimes you can spend so much time proving whose fault something is, you forget there’s still a ball that needs finding.

Me: Oh, please. Don’t turn a lost ball into one of your life lessons.

Beau: I’m a dog, Louise. I don’t do life lessons.

Me: Ha!

Beau: I do, however, know the difference between being right and getting what I want.

Me: Which is?

Beau: The ball.

(He looks at me expectantly.)

Me: You seriously expect me to go find it?

Beau: No.

Me: Good.

Beau: I expect us to find it.

Me: Us?

Beau: That’s the nice thing about giving up who’s right. Suddenly there’s an “us” again.

Me: That’s annoyingly profound.

Beau: I know.

Me: And smug.

Beau: Also true.

(I get up and start walking across the yard.)

Me: Fine. Come on.

Beau: Where are we going?

Me: To find your ball!

Beau: Oh. I know where it is.

(I stop.)

Me: You WHAT?

Beau: I know where it is.

Me: You’ve known where it was this whole time?

Beau: Of course.

Me: Then what was all this about?

Beau: Getting you to move.

Me: BEAUMONT!

Beau: What?

Me: You are impossible.

Beau: Hmmm. That’s a real possibility.

(He prances toward the ball.)

Beau: But I’m happy.