The Owner is standing on One Leg with both arms in the air and the other leg crossed over her knee. Her bottom is protruding in a Westerly direction to the extent that someone less wise than the Moral Dog might suggest it looked Big like that, and she is Wobbling more than Donald Trump’s Covid management team after he has Talked about Disinfectant.
Why are you standing like that? I ask.
It is Yoga, says the Owner.
You do not look Well-Balanced, I say.
I am Perfectly Balanced says the Owner, falling onto the Moral Dog.
I bear the impact with the kind of Grace and Patience you would expect from a Moral Dog, barely admitting a Sound.
What is that Howling? Asks the man from next door.
I fell on the Moral Dog, says the Owner.
Could you please not do it again, says the Man, my Work Zoom Colleagues are threatening to call Dogline again and have said if they hear further Sounds of Dog Suffering they will demand to be shown the Moral Dog alive and well and holding today’s Newspaper.
Tell them I will not do it again, says the Owner, climbing to her feet and standing on the other Leg. Slowly she beds at the knee and sticks her Bottom out. The Whole Human Edifice begins to wobble with the kind of Fundamental Frequency that proved fatal to Broughton Suspension Bridge on April 12th 1831.
I hide under the bed. The Owner topples majestically to the ground. It is fortunate that I am not beneath her as her Bottom is not exactly Small from this angle, howling is spontaneous, and we do not have a copy of today’s newspaper.
The Owner picks her self up and commences a further contortion, grunting delicately.
What is the point of Yoga? I ask.
It is Relaxing, says the Owner.
Sometimes the Owner is Completely Ridiculous.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.