From
his position high in the tree’s wooden cradle Brother Skunk saw the golden
retriever even before he heard the children’s voices, its head a convulsive
speck jabbing grass back along the pathside below. Skunk feared the worst, the
hope he still held decreasing when a small girl and smaller boy broke through
the overgrowth and the dog took off. The boy chased it only a few steps
cog
(shouting): BAD! BAD!
and
stood watching as it looped down the slope and then started back up towards him
in a wide arc, his sister now busy at the clump of grass so quickly abandoned.
Finding
nothing she came on along the path where he reluctantly rejoined the search.
cog:
Come on. I’ve had enough. Let’s
cog:
Hang on hang on. There’s bound to be some more
cog:
Come on. You’ve got tons already.
The
retriever tore past them again to describe another manic lap upon the slope.
Slowly
shaking his head, Skunk watched the children locate the last of his trail
amongst the roots of the tree in which he sat.
cog
(laughing): Told you. Yes, look at that, lookit... Tons. Goh, aces.
and
as the girl bent to retrieve the sweets from the grass, Skunk understood
whatever plans he had held for the day to collapse in absolute, felt the effort
expended in preparation that morning sapped again only this time in one single
excruciating wrench: both pockets of the navy blue jerkin directly below were
flared-out full of colourful peanut M&Ms.
cog
(offering some to her brother): Here. Take these.
cog:
I don’t want ‘em.
cog
(annoyed): Take these. No, these ones here.
cog:
Come on. I don’t
cog:
You can keep them for later. You don’t have to... Put them
their
dog ripping its trail toward them through the incipient plantlife
cog:
Scamp! SCAAAAMP!
and
away, the little boy chasing after it down the slope. His sister threw a
handful of candies after both, the sweets exploding against a tree trunk like
sugar fireworks to disappear swallowed by the leafmould. With her hands clamped
tight across her bulging pockets, she set off in careful pursuit.
Skunk
drew the finger and thumb of his left hand edge to centre across his damp eyes,
looking up
Skunk
(sighing heavily): Thank you. Thanks a lot.
