Monday, May 6, 2013

The Opposite of "Fetch"

We've seen the golden retriever on Third Street before. In the fenced-in little slate patio that functions as a front yard to one of the refurbished brownstones that line this wide street, she stands, stiff-legged, looks us straight in the eyes, tennis ball filling her mouth like an avatar of desire compressed into a furry yellow sphere, and drops it.

Since Park Slope is, as the name suggests, on an actual slope, the ball rolls downhill, under the wrought-iron fence and into the next yard, and she looks at the ball expectantly, then to us.

Her owner, smiling and friendly beneath a floppy, wide-brimmed gardening hat, watches as we reach over the fence and pick up the drool-covered, obviously well loved ball to throw it back to the coiled, waiting dog, and says, "I see you've met Sasha."

No comments:

Post a Comment