Flustered, embaressed and angry, I find myself running across the park to a cross looking dog owner.
This dog owner is quite cross because he is holding my naughty puppy forcefully by the collar, whilst muttering under his breadth, "bastard". Meanwhile my trusty doggy friend is attempting to struggle out of his grip so she can sprint off, away from her lead and towards someone more exciting, preferably with a bottom she can sniff.
This is bad enough when I am walking the dog alone.
When, however, I am walking the dog with my slightly pious friend, whose perfect Collie never leaves her side and returns at the utterance of its name, the embaressment and frustration at the uselessness of my own, rather less intelligent dog becomes almost too much to bare.
I wonder if this is how parents feel at sports day when their child comes last in every race by a good ten minutes?
I find myself, despite my anger, defending my dog against superior looks, arguing that "shes really very young", and "would never hurt a fly..shes just a bit dippy"....albeit slightly half-heartedly after twenty minutes of hollering her name.
My dog is much prettier anyway.
