Do you have Covid-19? I ask the Owner.
It seems that I do, says the Owner. But this is Day one so it is early days.
How do you feel? I ask.
I have a slight cough, says the Owner, such that it tickles when I breath in, and a slight temperature such that if I attempted to fry an egg on myself it would be a culinary disaster, achieving Mild Coddling at Best. But it is only Day 1. It is surreal being at Home Waiting to be Ill and knowing that I am a Risk to the Coffee Shop.
I suppose we must think of you as a Mine, I say. Nobody must get too close but if you can be left alone to Drift then eventually you will be Neutralised by Time.
I suppose so, says the Owner.
All Round and Spiky, I say, and Fairly Old.
I think you have misused the Metaphor, says the Owner. I am not going to Explode.
What are you going to do? I ask, as I am a Little Worried.
I expect to be Hotter with More Cough, says the Owner, but if I have a Mild Case this will not be too bad.
What about your Stitches? I ask, as the Owner just had her Insides Rearranged by a Surgeon.
One hopes they will be Up to the Job, says the Owner. But I will be glad when it is Over, she Adds, so that I can join the Army.
You cannot join the Army, I say. I have seen the Films. If you Join the Army you will tour the world, visit interesting People and Places, and shoot at them from behind Rocks. Sometimes you will do that From Space and be attacked by Darth Vader. There seems no place in that for the Moral Dog. Besides, whilst I do not wish to Annoy You, may I point out that you are a Little above the Average Joining Age?
That is not the Only Thing the Army does, says the Owner. You have Watched the Wrong Films. The Army do many good works around the World. Mostly they Keep the Peace and Save the Day.
I like the sound of that, I say. Do they take Moral Dogs in the Army?
I believe they do, says the Owner, but I need you here. I am not joining that Army. I am hoping to join a Different sort of Army.
You mean one that just tours the world, visits interesting People and Places and then Comes Home? I ask. Because to the Moral Dog this does not Sound like an Army.
No, says the Owner, I want to join the Immune Army. When I have Got Rid of this Virus I will be Immune, and then I can go and Visit Elderly People and Deliver their Shopping.
That is a Good Idea, I say. Are you sure you will get rid of the Virus? I ask.
It is Very Likely, says the Owner, because I am Normally Well.
That does not sound Certain, I say.
It is as Certain as I can be, says the Owner, given that one can never be Certain of Anything.
You can be Certain of the Moral Dog, I say. Can I come and Deliver the Shopping with you? I am, after all, also de facto a member of the Immune Army because I am a Dog.
Only if you do not eat the Cheese, says the Owner.
You are Casting Nasturtiums on the Moral Dog, I say. A Moral Dog would not Focus only on Cheese at a Time of National Crisis.
I am sorry, says the Owner. How may I make up to the Moral Dog for my Callous Disregard for his Morality?
I cannot imagine, I say.
Cheese? Asks the Owner.
That will do Nicely, I say.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.