Mid-March 2020 I was in the back of my friend’s minivan going down Interstate 90 to a high-level swim meet in Wisconsin when our coach called and told us it was canceled because of the emerging COVID-19 pandemic. School, swim practice, the entire country shut down in dread. My family was stuck in lockdown, at home, and days became months.

We have two dogs, Macaroni and Ziti, 10-pound high-energy Havaneses with nervous dispositions. These dogs are house plants perching atop the couch back keeping vigil through the windows; giving alerting barks at anything that moves, like birds, deer and leaves. They added torment to our drudgery, so we tried to get them outside to burn off their energy.

In the muddy backyard we threw everything, from balls to toys to sticks, to no avail; they were not interested and scratched at the door to go inside. Digging through our garage toy bin, I found a cheap fold-up Frisbee from some long ago field day. I threw it across the grass at my sister, Elise, as a joke. A dark streak bolted after the frisbee, Ziti caught it mid-air. We threw it again, he sprinted, going so fast he somersaulted when he missed it.

Over the next few days, we went outside again and again with Ziti to play Frisbee and the infatuation did not wear off. He quickly destroyed the Frisbee, and then quickly destroyed a second fold-up Frisbee we found in the garage. My dad ordered robust mini-dog Frisbees with express overnight delivery.

We would play outside for hours in the chilly April, then go in for a break to warm up. Ziti immediately whined at the door to go outside to play more! Havanese are not bred to catch Frisbees, and this is obvious when you watch Ziti chase after one. He is diminutive and low to the ground -- not ideal for chasing a high-speed airborne object -- yet he has made impressive strides in his technique. He can sprint faster than Usain Bolt and leap high into the air, snapping his snout at the Frisbee.

When the wind is low and the Frisbee slowly floats, he can sometimes catch it mid-air. When I hold the Frisbee, Ziti watches it with rapt attention, vibrating with excitement and concentration, and it is a joy to watch him give chase. As he runs, his tongue flies out the side of his mouth and nothing can stop him. He chases so much he overheats and needs breaks in the shade, but in the winter he flops onto snow banks and puts his nose deep into the snow, getting ready for the next round. Sometimes he remembers to fetch the Frisbee back, then we praise him as a “Lab-anese” for channeling his inner Labrador Retriever.

Ziti has found his life’s purpose and continues to challenge himself to achieve mastery. I am looking at colleges, debating majors, contemplating careers. Existential questions fill my head, what am I good at, what should I become. Ziti is not supposed to be a Frisbee dog -- Havanese were bred as lap dogs, but he overcame.

I may not know what to do with my life yet, but I know to keep my eyes open for when my Frisbee flies by.

Chloe Weingarten is a junior at Mayo High School. Send comments on teen columns to Jeff Pieters, jpieters@postbulletin.com.