It started as a harmless joke. Like many dog owners, 34-year-old Satoru Sugiyama would pretend to throw a ball, just to watch his golden retriever, Hachi, sprint forward in confused excitement.
But what Satoru didn’t realize was that Hachi was paying attention. After months of being on the receiving end of deception, Hachi finally turned the tables, inventing the ultimate revenge prank, fake fetch. And as if that wasn’t enough, he soon began teaching the technique to other dogs, spreading the deception across the park.
The Moment of Canine Genius
Satoru first noticed something suspicious during their usual afternoon playtime. As always, he tossed a ball across the park, expecting Hachi to return with his prize proudly.
Instead, Hachi picked up the ball, ran back, and proudly dropped… absolutely nothing.
Satoru blinked. His hand reached out instinctively, but the ball was nowhere to be found.
“Did… did my dog just fake-fetch me?” he muttered, eyes narrowing as Hachi’s tail wagged innocently. The pattern repeated over several days. Every few throws, Hachi would purposely pretend to return the ball, offering only air, pure confidence, and the satisfaction of knowing his owner was now the confused one.
The Fake Fetch Movement Spreads
At first, Hachi’s fake-fetch scheme seemed like a one-time prank, a clever revenge trick played against his owner. But soon, something strange started happening at the local dog park. Other dogs were watching Hachi closely, and before long, they began copying his technique with alarming accuracy.
One afternoon, Satoru noticed a fellow dog owner calling out in frustration.
“Wait, where’s the ball?!”
A young Shiba Inu had returned empty-pawed, tail wagging with perfect innocence, as if nothing unusual had happened. Satoru’s eyes widened. Could it be? The realization hit hard. Hachi wasn’t just pranking his own human anymore. He had started spreading the technique to other dogs.
Dog Owners Enter a State of Confusion
Within weeks, multiple dogs across the park had adopted the fake-fetch method, leading to utter chaos and disbelief among their human companions. Owners stood in silent confusion, staring at their pets with suspicion.
“Is… is everyone’s dog doing this now?!”
A Labrador owner waved a ball, hoping for a genuine fetch return. Instead, his dog sprinted forward, grabbed the ball, ran back, and dropped absolutely nothing. The owner checked the grass. The ball was still sitting in the same place where it had landed.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice cracking under the pressure of deception.
Another pet owner tried switching balls, believing that perhaps a specific toy had been cursed by Hachi’s influence. But no matter the object—tennis ball, frisbee, rubber stick—the dog returned empty-mouthed, acting as if it had done its job perfectly.
Soon, owners began holding whispered meetings near the benches, eyes darting around nervously.
“Did your dog do it too?”
“Yeah. Three times in a row.”
“Are… are we being tricked?!”
Experts Weigh In, and Find Themselves Just as Confused
Word of the fake-fetch movement quickly reached local canine behavior specialists, who arrived at the park determined to understand the phenomenon. Dr. Emiko Shimoda, a respected dog intelligence researcher, attempted a formal observation session, recording dog behavior over several days.
At first, she believed it was simply a coincidence. Then, as she carefully threw a ball to one of Hachi’s protégés, she experienced the deception firsthand. The dog retrieved nothing, returned with total confidence, and proudly dropped an empty patch of air.
Dr. Shimoda stared in silence, unsure whether she was being pranked by an animal or losing her grip on reality.
“We… we don’t have a scientific term for this,” she finally admitted.
“Is it revenge? Advanced humor? A rebellion against fetch culture?” As researchers struggled to explain the phenomenon, one undeniable truth remained. Hachi had successfully sparked a canine movement, proving that sometimes, dogs are way smarter than they let on.
The Ultimate Prank War Begins
Now fully aware that fetch is no longer reliable, dog owners are left in a constant state of second-guessing. Some have started adding extra tracking methods, watching their dogs like detectives, determined to catch them in the act of deception. Others have fully embraced the prank, laughing through their frustration as they, too, fall victim to Hachi’s growing movement.
As for Satoru, he simply shakes his head in admiration, knowing that while fetch may never be the same again, he has unknowingly raised a mastermind. “Who’s the real owner here?” he mused. “Because at this point, I think Hachi is running the show.”