one man and his … where’s my dog?

let’s make one thing clear
it wasn’t MY idea
to go on the walk
in fact I baulked
when I looked outside and saw the weather
the rain had stopped raining the water was draining but whatever
you’d have to say it was still pretty soaking
if you’re thinking of exercise you must be joking
so I’d have preferred to defer the whole thing
but no
Stanley plainly wanted to go
whining and mithering like a so-and-so
so
I finally conceded
speedily clipped on the lead and proceeded

but was he happy?
basically
no

over the fields he acted distracted
like a haunted dog that could only be contacted
by ouija board or canine shaman
‘cos I kept on calling his name and
clearly it was having zero effect
no rapport, no connect
between master and dog, man and beast
I mean – he could’ve given me a nod at least
but every sniff was a full blown retreat

when we finally made the hill
he kept on hanging back until
I was forced to march up the slope to fetch him
like ten minutes walking had over-stretched him
I mean maybe something else upset him
but WHAT?
the nearest dog was just a dot
on the horizon
I was none the wiser
and neither
was Stan
he didn’t even want the treat in my hand
deaf and blind to all my whistling
stubbornly resisting
any attempt
to tempt
him on
if I hadn’t run back and fastened the lead he’d be gone
who knows where
to a land of lost lurchers somewhere
over the rainbow
where bluebirds fly and dogs just lie all day in the window
staring out mournfully
sniffing at tripe sticks scornfully
like he’s treated despicably
till predictably
I give in and take him for a walk
and for no apparent reason he cuts it short

fine
next time
I’m totally getting a cat
nobody talks about walks and all that

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