J. Bowen
That made sense. Bob loves nothing more than chasing mice and rats and
other creatures when let loose in parks. On several occasions, he’d
wandered over to me with something he’d found – and probably killed –
while he was roaming around.
One day, for instance, we were looking after Titch’s dog Princess again
and I’d decided to take the pair of them to a small park near the flats where
I live. It’s not the most glamorous green space in London. It’s got a
rundown basketball court and a tree-lined area. But that was enough for
them.
I was sitting on a bench with Bob on the extra-long lead I’d made for him
when he suddenly spotted a grey squirrel.
Princess spotted it too and soon the pair of them were bounding towards
it. The squirrel, quite sensibly, scampered up the nearest tree, but Bob and
Princess weren’t deterred.
I watched them as they worked together trying to work out how to flush
the squirrel out of the tree. It was like watching a SWAT team trying to
winkle a bad guy out of a safe house.
Princess would let out a bark every now and again to try and rattle the
squirrel. Every time the squirrel appeared or made a move, the two would
adjust their positions. Bob was covering one side, leading back on to the
open space towards me, while Princess was covering the squirrel’s other
potential escape route at the back of the tree.
They carried on with this for twenty minutes before eventually giving up.
I’m sure some people must have thought that I was ever-so-slightly mad.
But I sat there grinning and giggling away, engrossed by every captivating
minute of it.
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