Cocoa, one of my two dogs, and I have similar objectives in life: we both chase balls.

Each day, at dawn, Cocoa brings her favorite ball to me and the game begins.

There is, at a minimum, the need to toss the ball four times for her to fetch.

On a good day, she will end the game after three, and on a very good day, the game will end after two.

Sometimes it takes five tosses to retire her while my other dog, LaKota watches without comment.

Not long ago, I took Cocoa for a spin in the car.

We stopped and repeated the tosses.

Again, and this depended upon the stop, she demanded a set number of tosses.

She has 18 favorite places, and the number of tosses is linked to the place.

Sometimes five, maybe four, but usually a minimum of three.

Clearly her behavior is obsessive since she demands to play the same game every day, but depending upon the weather, she will vary the number of tosses demanded per day.

However, if a day is missed, and the weather is good, she broods.

It's very difficult to ignore her glares.

Brown eyes, focused directly at you in a way that makes one feel guilty.

The only relief, as expected, is to start the game.

Such behavior, or obsessive-compulsive behavior as it is clinically known, is characterized by obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors that are so excessive that they interfere with daily life.

While Cocoa's obsessive actions are rewards for her, they do interfere with my life.

Wives (or husbands) of other golfers know this as being a “Golf Widow.”

No matter what Cocoa does, she cannot shake her behavior; after all it's obsessive.

As a dog owner I, therefore, am driven to comply with her obsession.

This makes me feel isolated and helpless.

I must continually reward Cocoa's obsession, thus this limits the amount of free time I have to enjoy other activities and social endeavors.

This means that my wife and I can seldom get away alone, since the animal's obsession requires attention that seldom can be met by others.

Even the most lavish doggie hotel fails to meet the pets expectations.

Of course, I can always take the four-legged obsessor with me on trips, but doing so has consequences of its own.

Cocoa must ride in the passengers seat and occasionally wants to steer the car.

And, of course, there are those constant needs to stop so she can chase the ball.

Such obsessions are quite familiar to any observer of the human golfer.

The compulsion to drive to different locations simply to chase a ball around a course and repeat this action, day in and day out, can best be described clinically as “an anxiety disorder characterized by uncontrollable, unwanted thoughts and repetitive, ritualized behaviors the golfer feels compelled to perform.”

Those in the medical profession who treat such disorders advise that “such obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors are irrational.”

Even so, as both Cocoa and I know, those afflicted feel unable to resist them and break free.

Like a needle getting stuck on an old record, the obsession with ball-chasing causes the dog or human brain to get stuck on a particular thought or urge.

But, I must admit to being far more compulsive.

Dogs are simply responding to a need to chase the ball.

Watch me golf.

I check, re-check and check again the way I hold the club, bend over the ball, look at the pin, waggle, and so on.

Seldom do I simply hit the ball.

I have rituals that must be obeyed.

Indeed, I drive around in something a little larger than a go-cart for hours making sure that the ball I am chasing is the one I started off with.

There is, however, one big difference: Cocoa, never, I mean never, loses a ball.

Michael M. McGreer writes on public policy when not playing golf or meeting his dogs demands. See his blog at: http://www.generations.typepad.com/.