I carry the ball to my mistress, drop it at her feet and
wait. I'm staring earnestly at it - for about two seconds. I look up at her and she’s
ignoring me, so I bark. It means
‘C’mon, c’mon, throw the ball. Throw the ball. Now.’
She continues to ignore me, so I pick the ball up again and
drop it onto her foot this time. Nope. No good. I rise up and give her leg a
nudge with my front paws. Still nothing, so I pant in an engaging way. I'm very good at that. Then I
try wagging my tail and smiling nicely. That has to work, surely. Nope.
I become frustrated and do three pirouettes, Dougal-style. The mistress is away in a dream somewhere. I might as well not exist. How can a dog like
me not exist? Has the world gone mad? I bark more urgently this time:
‘C’mon, will ya? Throw
the freggin’ ball!’
Dog mind. A fault I never got rid of.
No comments:
Post a Comment