This morning owner petted strange dog.
Caspar, he was called. I suppose he’s pretty, if you like the type. Very fluffy. Very cute.
Faithless. She even seemed to know him. Clearly has fondled other dogs before.
My eyes are open. I should have seen the signs. I behave honourably, and elevate myself above the encounter. I do not even chew Caspar slightly. I hope they noticed. Dignity rests with the dog that remains aloof. Besides, revenge is a dish best served cold.
What do you do when you pledge eternal faithfulness in the sound expectation that this is mutual and eternal, then you discover that the Person’s interpretation of faithfulness is, shall we say, FLUFFY? Do you howl and weep and betray your breed by acting like some kind of lovelorn wolf? Do you throw your toys out of the pram and take the next possible opportunity to refuse to sit? Or do you say nothing and conduct yourself with pride and honour?
These are more profound questions than the mere matter of Caspar suggests. What do you do when you vote for one thing on the basis of what you have been told, have understood, have absorbed as truth to your very soul then what is on offer turns out to be entirely another? Is it enough to say that you should have realised that the murky chasms of human nature are such that all surprises lurk there? Does this explain the deadly appeal of Nigel Farage? Does he speak it as it is? Des it help that he often holds beer?
I think about this intently as we head home. She says her arm is going to come right out of the socket. She thinks I’m pulling on the lead like this because I’m happy.
What an assumption.
What a trollop.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.