He has things to do, so he stops playing fetch. The dogs freeze, toys caught between teeth and paws, ears alert, eyes fastened on his retreating back. Is he coming back? Is this part of the game? But the door shuts and he is gone. There is a halfhearted toss of a fuzzy toy, a squeak produced with a tired bite. They drop their toys and find a spot to doze, with their eyes half open, ready to jump up with his return.