I used to fancy myself as a bit of a tennis player back in the day. Was one of those kids that was really good at 12-13 and then just stayed at that level. Fast forward to last year when I had dreams of introducing my then 5yo to tennis. Bought the rackets, the training tennis balls (24 to be exact) and the fancy ball-picker-upper basket thingy. Rock up to the court. Decide that the child needs to see her dad loosen up with some old-school serves straight down the middle. First serve, throw my back out, get uber grumpy to the point that my daughter chucks her racket and heads off to start throwing ball after ball to the dog.
The dog was in HEAVEN, I tell you. We haven’t stepped on the court since and he (the dog) has gone through half a dozen of the f’ing pristine training balls.