In the park
Today, in the park, as is the case most days, a white, curly-coated missile of solid muscle is racing in circles. She has been racing in circles for some time kept in the air, just above the ground by very short legs moving as fast as Louis Hamilton’s Mercedes. So fast do they piston she seems to travel on a blur.
She performs circle after circle – changing direction at will. Clockwise up and down the bank, and then counter-clockwise in larger circles up to the top of the bank.Then circles around a group of chatting minders. How she misses hitting anyone or anything is a miracle.
Also present in the park today, standing companionably on the path, are a couple of ex-show dogs who have known each other since their days in the ring when rosettes were their passion. One is low to the ground, chocolate brown in colour. The other has proper legs and a sleek grey coat. One thing they have in common however are long, floppy ears that look as if they weigh them down.
They are aware of the spinning missile. They couldn’t be anything other.
“Very skilled, that girl,” says the high standing, long-legged one. “I remember when I could do that. Turn on a blade of grass I could. In fact I could run like that and catch a ball in my mouth at the same time. I was very good – when I was young.”
However, his friend – the low to the ground, brown dog – who likes her treats and has put on a lot of weight recently and for whom speed running has never been an attribute – is not impressed.
“She’s like an out of control wind-up toy. No, not a wind-up toy – a battery powered one with a very long-life battery. And those yelps she makes. She gets on my nerves. She has no breeding.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” says long legs. “A Scottie isn’t she?”
“I didn’t mean that,” snaps his companion. “I mean she’s rough, she’s common.
No self-control. She wrestles with any Tom, Dick or Harry. Her minder better keep and eye on her or you know what could happen.”
At this this shuts her mouth decisively and moves on with great dignity. There are certain subjects a canine of her refinement does not discuss.
“Hmm,” says her companion casting an admiring glance back at the whirling
“I wonder,” he thinks wistfully, but fleetingly.
“No, no,” he admonishes himself.
“When I was young,” he sighs before moving on to join his friend.
© Doreen Elcox August 2019