The Owner says the Prime Minister and all his Men have Covid.

It is quite a coincidence that they all caught it at the same time, I say. How very unlucky that is, I say.

Yes, says the Owner.

Were they not practising Social Distancing? I ask.

It seems not, says the Owner.

But I thought the Prime Minister said we had to stay in our Households, I say.

Indeed, says the Owner.

You are being somewhat monosyllabic, I say.

There are times, says the Owner, when a Syllable says it all.

Perhaps the Prime Minister has a big Household, I say.

Maybe, says the Owner.

I thought they were not all allowed to fly on the same Plane, I say.

That is true, says the Owner.

But they can all be in the same room as a Virus, I say.

They did not know it was there, says the Owner, due to lack of tests.

It is fortunate that the Prime Minister and his Men have now all had a Test, I say, otherwise we would still not know it was there.

So true, says the Owner.

That’s good then, I say, at least we know where the Virus is now.

Not really, says the Owner. We do not know where the Virus is. We therefore do not know where it is not.

I am not sure why that matters, I say. If I was Aragorn in the Mines of Moria, I say, and the Virus was an army of Orcs I would be far more worried about where they were than where they were not. I have noticed recently that if I bring Aragorn into things the Owner pays more attention.

When facing an Army of Orcs, says the Owner, if you do not know how big it is, nor where it is, nor how fast it is approaching, nor where it is not, then how can you possibly defend yourself? Learning that an Orc has just popped up grabbed the Prime Minister sheds little light on the matter of organised Orc-defence, it merely adds to the sense of threat. Do you remember the bit from Lord of the Rings when they were in the Mines of Moria and found the Diary of the Dwarves which talks about the drums sounding in the deep, and then they say they are coming?

How could I forget, I say, I tried to hide in a cupboard and got into the fridge by mistake. I was attacked by a lamp chop. I was paralysed by fear.

It did not stop you eating it, says the Owner.

In a Fight or Flight situation one must take fuel on board, I say. I was dealing with a Considerable Degree of Fight and Flight at the time.

Exactly, says the Owner. The fear of what you cannot see is greater than the fear of what you can. All across the Country people are seeing danger in everyone else. They are becoming unwelcoming and harsh. They are leaving notes on cars and messages on Social Media. If ever there was a time to come together and understand where the Orcs have been, how many there are, where they are coming to next and how fast they are approaching, it is now.

You are in a sulk because the Prime Minister had a Test and you did not, I say.

On the contrary, says the Owner, I am delighted that the Prime Minister had a Test. It is important to know if you have Covid when you have an Important Job To Do. Imagine. Once it is gone you can get on with your Important Work without risking those you are responsible for.

Ah, I say.

Important Work like Caring for the Elderly and Running the NHS, says the Owner.

Indeed, I say.

It is entirely clear that the Prime Minister did not buy or arrange for enough tests, says the Owner.

Oh, I say.

I was an Abdication of Responsibility that would have been matched only if Gandalf had taken the Company of the Ring into the Mines of Moria without their Swords, says the Owner.

Gosh, I say.

Moreover, says the Owner, the Prime Minister has not had the decency to admit that this was a mistake that will cripple the country almost as much as the Covid itself.

Oh, I say.

I know, says the Owner.

At least you have stopped being Monosyllabic, I say.

But you seem to have started, says the Owner.

There are times, I say, when a Syllable Says it All.

Categories: covid diary dignity dog dog philosophy

Tagged as: coronavirus Covid-19

Hergest the Hound

I am a dog of many thoughts.