Walking The Dog

At the mouth of the park stands a man. At his feet, a small black and white dog, not much more than a pup, terrier maybe, crossed with Daschund, which would account for the long body. Initially, I think the dog is on a lead but then I realise, no, he’s just very obedient, devoted. The man turns, walks a few steps into the park and gestures as if to say ‘Come on! Hurry up!’ The little dog mimics his master’s gaze, but allows himself a brief sniff of the ground. All the while he remains within a foot of the man’s heels, and when the man impatiently turns back to the street again and starts walking, the little dog follows. Eventually, out of the park gates, I see not a child or a spouse as I had supposed, but another black and white dog, bigger than the first but still little, running to catch up.