Since I belong to a tennis playing family, I try my best to help out when the family embarks on a trip to the courts.  As they gather their tennis bags, I follow them all over the house (and get under their feet on purpose) so that they don't forget that I want to play too.  If they are looking for tennis balls I go and check my stash under the living room couch and pick out the three best balls out of my large collection.  Of course there's no fuzz left on them and they're matted with dried saliva, but I think that's the way they like them since they always say, "thanks alot Buffy".  When the family cooperates and agrees to take me along, my next goal is to get them to let me out of the car.  I'll pant real hard so they know that it's too hot to leave me in the auto, even with the windows rolled down.  Finally I make it onto the court, but only if there are no other players there who might lose confidence if they see a dog outplaying them.  As the family plays I streak across the court, with Federer-like grace and balance, intercepting volleys and jumping over the net.  (Okay, I can't really jump across the net anymore). After a minute or two I'm tired.  Lifting a tennis racket is hard work for a dog, as is standing on our hind legs and shuffling.  Since I can't really play that well maybe I'll just become a model.  Maria, when you need a dog for your next commercial, forget about Dolce and ring me up.  Thank you darling !