Two Little ... One Little

We've seen them often, over the years,
walking on leash; two small, white and fluffy
bichon frise dogs. Always impeccably groomed,
a sweetly comic pair straining at their leashes,
panting with the effort, with their human
companion softly urging them to relent, to
'be nice', to kindly behave. One of the pair more
accustomed to holding back, the second truly
straining forward, their owner feinting to control
as they surge toward and confront our two little dogs.

One of the pair does indeed behave well. The other
however, not so inclined, lost to her obviously aggressive
instincts. We position our own small ever-pugnacious
one aside, but the two are by now well known to one
another and the alternate two of more gentle disposition
merely snuffle each other and move on. Through the
seasons, mellow or bitter, sunny summer days or
snowy winter challenges, we are as passing familiars;
brief stops to wave, to chat, on our daily trail walks
in our privileged neighbourhood urban forest.

Habit ingrained within our daily routines, bringing
comfort and stability, we seldom pause to reflect
on the unknown lying beneath the surface of ready
assumptions. Came the day when the familiar face
held but one leash and the abashed, reluctant revelation
that the white, fluffy partner of the one who stood
panting nearby had been 'put down'. Her aggression
no longer within the realm of tolerable, bringing
calm and peace to the newly-mourning household.