There is a scene in Spanglish that reminded me of Andy and how we got two of Andy’s nicknames: Pandy-Please-No & Pandy-Please. The wife was lecturing the maid about throwing the ball to the dog. Once someone starts playing fetch, the dog will want to keep going and going the wife said, so she said the maid shouldn’t start playing with him at all. While the wife was lecturing the maid, the wife had the ball in her hand waiving it around to emphasize her point. The dog stood behind the wife unbeknownst to her and kept moving in unison with the ball as the wife kept waiving it around, so too would Andy respond when he locked in on a ball.
He was relentless. He would beg for the person to throw the ball. After returning it, he would try to place it in the thrower’s hand. If that didn’t work, he would drop the ball in the person’s lap or chair. The cycle would repeat. One time I timed him doing this game. He went non-stop for 30 minutes, easily. He was indefatigable. The person throwing the ball always wore out and had to stop.
I know for me, my throwing shoulder would start to ache. This was the same shoulder I pulled out of joint during a race in a swim meet in my junior year in high school. It had never been the same since. To compensate for that injury when I threw, I’d throw side-armed or left-handed. Eventually, I would hide the ball. First, I acted like I threw it then quickly stuff it out of site. Andy would run where he thought the ball would be. He would sniff around for a few minutes and then come back to me and give me a quizzical look. He’d cock his head to the side beseeching me to help him.
I would plaintively say “Pandy, please. No.” I’d emphasize the ‘please’ and follow it up with a sharp ‘no.’ And that is how Pandy Please got his nicknames Pandy Please and Pandy Please No.