Autumn in Richmond Park. Something of a paradise for South Londoners. The trees changing, the stags snug with their hinds,a brave sun shining, rays picking up the variegated bracken, a few yummy mummies with their dogs. I am walking a few miles across the Park for a lunch by the river with a pal.
Suddenly, stage left between the ponds and the avenue, a golden retriever leaves his master’s side and chases after the deer. They scamper in fear,the dog loves it,he has done it many times before. The owner watches, as if he is a gypsy admiring his greyhound coursing a hare.Except he is banker who was forced to take early retirement on his constitutional . For him its great sport, an untrained dog scaring almost tame deer.
Many dog owners feel the pedigree,virility, sport, potency of their pet is a direct reflection of their own personality. The dog as the owner’s pseudo personality is so laughable that it has to go down as part of care in the community. After a while, sport enjoyed, our man in the hush puppies and the cardigan calls the dog,after a while the half trained canine responds.
When the dog eventually returns, I am surprised to see it rewarded with a tit bit before the lead is fastened.
I draw level. That was terrible, why dont you train your dog or keep it on a lead?
What do you mean. Havent you ever had a dog. Its natural.
Yes I have had a dog but he never attacked the deer(as it was ,he was too timid). If you can’t control your dog you shouldn’t have one. You are a disgrace.
He can’t look me in the eye. He says, I am not going to get into an argument with you. I reply, Of course not ,you haven’t got one.
The sun is still shining,the leaves are still turning. The banker (maybe he was a lawyer,something gut less) goes home,no doubt to tell Sandra,they met down at the tennis club, about this really rude dog hater he met in the Park. There’s a good dog,don’t worry about that horrible man,daddy loves you.