Copyright 2005 Ben S. Pollock
Wednesday, May 18, 2005: Instead of speaking out of turn, here is a Brick.
While sketching with some others in Gulley Park at twilight, a family approached: a mom, two boys and a dog tethered to one of the kids. Intelligent kids, you could tell. The dog had a long lead and pulled his master over so the pup could sniff us and our art materials scatted on the grass.
“Bad dog,” said the boy. A second later the dog came over again.
“Bad dog,” said the boy, this time managing to pull the reluctant dog away from us. (One of my party had paused to study his sketch and eager to pet the animal.)
“Kid,” I wanted to say. “The dog isn’t bad. He’s being a dog. You don’t want him to knock over our water bottles, then shorten the lead. Oh, and go to obedience school so both of you know how to act in public.”
That’s reading too much into this. It just reminded me of myself and my Australian terrier, George, my pal from fourth-grade until eighth, when he got run over, which I witnessed.
Dad made sure I knew how to lead with a leash, and George was smart and learned to heel, sit and so forth. But to allow length for him to explore and me to tag along with him on walks at Creekmore Park in Fort Smith and Lake Tenkiller in eastern Oklahoma, that’s a nice memory set. And to heck with the grown-ups we annoyed! -30-
