yo rocko

I was walking in the park the other day when a big yellow dog ran over, all gallumpy and jumping; a woman followed, shouting Rocko stop that!  I told her not to worry, that I was used to dogs, I didn’t mind enthusiasm. She looked relieved.

I said there’s so much concern these days about animals—squirrels eating the bird seed, raccoons checking the bins, cats weeing on the turnips—dear oh dear oh dear where will it all end??  

“Frankly,” I continued, “it’s people I find scariest; it’s us that have the most annoying habits overall. Don’t you think?”  

She backed away a little, smiled in a way that suggested no, she didn’t think. She looked around for the dog, then apropos of nothing, informed me that Rocko was a Labradoodle.

“A cross between a lab and a poodle,” she said, as if  this bit of info was so valuable I might want to tuck it away for safekeeping.

I returned the smile and said aren’t we all to some extent Labradoodles… some weird experiment just trying to do our gallumping best?

The woman seemed confused.

But I’m pretty sure Rocko got it.

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