We have been watching rugby, a game which involves a group of men chasing a ball up and down a field, with occasional interventions by a whistling Owner to takes it off them then throws it back. These men have the Souls of Dogs.
The Owner cheered when the Men in White Shorts chased the ball. She cheered even more loudly when they jumped all over the Men in Green Shorts in order to take the ball from them and run away. She cheered even louder when the Men in Green Shorts who had tried to keep the ball were lying on their backs in the mud.
I remarked pointedly that the Men in Green Shorts were now rather looking grumpy and their Green Shorts now appeared black. She says that’s the rules of the game and isn’t it great? Look, she says, the Men in White Shorts have still got the ball and they won’t give it back.
This being the case I really can’t understand what all the trouble was in the park. The Lady in the Pink Trousers was not nearly as dirty as the Men in the Green Shorts when she sat in the mud, and I gave her handbag back almost straight away.
The Owner says that’s not the same.
I don’t see why.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.