I like dogs. If circumstances allowed, I’d like to have a dog again. But since that isn’t practical I have to limit myself to admiring them from afar.
The route to work passes through a park (one of the few things the local council does well) which is understandably popular with two- and four-legged walkers.
An owner stands, tossing a well-chewed tennis ball from hand to hand. A black labrador watches, tail wagging expectantly. It’s obvious what’s going to happen next. Or is it?
The ball is hurled off into the distance. The tail wags a little faster. The labrador’s head moves slightly, following the ball’s arc through the air, looking for the exact spot it will land.
The ball bounces. Once, twice. Still the dog does not set off in pursuit. The ball trickles to a halt and at last the labrador moves. By all of a couple of steps to settle itself in the sun, stretching out to gnaw on the stick it had been carrying.
The owner looks bemused and then trudges off to retrieve the ball. This time it’s their turn to fetch.
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