Frank and Fiona met during the Corona lockdown. How could that happen, since everybody was supposed to hunker down in their homes? It was by no means illegal. They both owned a dog and they were allowed to walk them. If they had had a cat, they might never have met, but dogs just cannot be trained to poo indoors.
Dogs are very communicative creatures. They do not share the ingrained shyness we all – to various degrees – possess. When they see another of their kind – even from a distance – they want to come close and get acquainted. The truth of the matter is that we can learn immensely from our dogs.
They couldn’t care less about the age, the size, the looks, the breed or the gender of the other dog. He/she may be skinny or fat, be muzzled or limp along on three legs, they are always pleased to do a little sniffing and frolicking. They have no fear of contact.
Frank was proud to walk ‘Flower’, a golden retriever with a pedigree. She knew that she was gorgeous. She liked looking at the shop windows to catch sight of her reflection. By pointing her nose skyward she showed that she was a little too full of herself.
Fiona’s dog was diminutive. She could carry him in a shopping bag. He was pitch black with a pointed snout and a stubble of a tail. She had rescued him from the shelter because he had a way of looking at her, it made her heart melt.
During lockdown dog owners took out their pets more often than usual. They all needed the exercise and fresh air. The parks and green spaces were heavily frequented: a real get-together into the late hours of the day.
Like dog, like master. Frank’s gait showed he was walking a diva, whereas Fiona constantly looked down to see whether her mongrel was doing his business.
Frank and Fiona were destined to meet. While the two dogs were getting acquainted in their usual way, their owners engaged in some small talk.
‘She’s a golden retriever, isn’t she?’ asked Fiona. ‘She’s gorgeous.’ Frank approved, almost as if the compliment was directed at him. ‘I’ve got mine from the dog shelter’, Fiona added hastily, to spare Frank the trouble to say a half-hearted nicety that would sound false. ‘He’s such a darling. I’ve never been loved like that in my life’, she said, blushing.
‘Flower is a treasure, too’ said Frank. ‘Look how sweet she is with…, what’s his name?’
‘Gosh, it’s Flour, too. How funny.’
Frank looked baffled. That didn’t seem a suitable name for him.
‘He got his name after a bowl of flour tippped onto him while I was making a cake. What a scream. I’ve called him Flour ever since and he seems to like it.’
Frank laughed out loud. He was kind of relieved. Same name, but different. Crazy English language.
‘Maybe it’s time to introduce each other”, suggested Frank with a polite bow. Fiona followed suit.
‘So all our names start with an F. Ain’t that funnny.’
You won’t be surprised to be told that the F group arranged to meet again the following day …