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March 17th. The slow burn.

You don’t look Very Sick to Me, I tell the Owner, so why am I Going to Day Care?

I cannot Walk the Moral Dog whilst I have Covid-19, says the Owner. This would be Unfair on Many Levels. Whilst I do not yet look sick I have only just caught it. I am likely to become Sicker than This but I am Hoping for a Mild Case.

Could we not walk Very Early in the morning when Nobody is there? I ask. Nobody will know you are Sick.

No, says the Owner, that would be Selfish. As soon as the Park opens there are Persons there. If I pass it on they may have less reason to hope for a Mild Case.

There is only the Lady in the Pink Trousers, I say. Or at least, the Lady who Used to have Pink Trousers before they Changed Colour in the Wash for Reasons she seemed to feel were Inextricably Linked to the Moral Dog. Perhaps she would not Mind Having It. She looks very Healthy to me. She had an extremely Loud Shout.

You cannot make such Assumptions, says the Owner. The Lady in Pink Trousers does not want to Share my Covid, it is enough that she has Shared the Feet of the Moral Dog. And it is Important to slow the Spread so that there are Hospital Beds available for Poorlier People.

I could walk by Myself, I say. That would seem to Solve the Problem.

You Could Not, says the Owner. The Dog Pound would get you.

The Dog Pound didn’t get Houdini until he got to Shepherd’s Bush roundabout, I say. He got a Good Run. He had hoped to visit Westfield for the Shopping Experience but Overshot due to Vigorous Pursuit.

Which just Goes to Show, says the Owner. I have No Intention of Retrieving the Moral Dog from the Pound. Houdini’s Owner got an ASBO. Whilst I am Sick the Lovely Daycare People will take you to run around with Bercow and Caspar. It is the Best Thing All Round.

But you don’t look Sick to me, I say. Where is this Virus? Let me fight it.

It is not one Virus any more, says the Owner, now that it is inside me it is Millions of Viruses.

That is Gross, I say. There is a Film about that.

It is not Gross, it is Biology, says the Owner. But I have Millions of Fighter cells that have set about Defeating Them.

You don’t look as if you’re doing much, I say. You’re just lying there on the Bed listening to the Rough Island Band.

Precisely, says the Owner. Sometimes staying warm and well fed, even given the Somewhat Limited Diet we are currently Subject to, is the best think one can do. If you like we can watch Alien later.

I do not want to watch Alien, I say. I would prefer something about Fluffy Friendly Creatures. And would you like to Share my Puppy Duck and Rice?

I may need to, says the Owner, but for now there is still a little Cheese.

It is not what a Superhero would do, I say, ignoring the Unsubtle reference to Cheese Rationing. A Superhero faces his foes.

My Immune Cells are Superheroes, says the Owner. They are just Very Small. I am young and strong so I believe I will be fine.

You are not that young, I say. If you were you would not buy Face Cream with Shellfish in it. Imagine how you would look without it.

The Moral Dog is, as ever, inspirational, says the Owner, but I am young and strong on the inside. I have Stayed Fit and Been Lucky. 58 is the new 30.

You are nearly 59, I say.

Nearly 59, says the Owner, is 58. Learn some Maths.

I sense the Owner is not entirely thrilled by my Line of Argument, but the Moral Dog can Regroup. How do you know the Immune Cells will win? I ask. They must be Daunted by such an Enemy.

I have to trust them, says the Owner. They have fought Many Such Enemies before. I believe they will not give up this time.

You are going to say there may come a day when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day aren’t you? I say.

How did you know that? Asks the Owner.

You are wearing your Aragorn Face, I say, but it seems rather rough to send the Moral Dog to Daycare when such a Battle if Being Fought. Can I not Fight the Virus? I know a little about Superheroes, I say. I have said as much as I dare. Superdog must maintain his cover at all times.

Of course, says the Owner. You fight the Virus by Being a Happy and Well Exercised Moral Dog who does not Insist that the Owner spends the Entire Evening putting Squeaky Cat up her Jumper whilst trying to manage her recent stitches. This would give my Immune Cells extra Reassurance.

Very well, I say. I will go to Daycare. What are you looking at in the Mirror?

Nothing, says the Owner. Just tidying up.

I know she is admiring her Aragorn Face, but the Moral Dog is too much of a Gentleman to say so.

Categories: dignity dog dog philosophy

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Hergest the Hound

I am a dog of many thoughts.

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