ALL THE DOGS IN THE UNIVERSE

There are lots of different types of dog, aren’t there? In the known universe, in all the reaches of the cosmos, within thousands of millions of light years, there are hundreds of different types of dog. And yet they’re all on Earth. And mostly in this park. What are the odds?

The usual sunset rigmarole then. I sit here, the wind gets chilly as the light fades, and I suddenly hear panting behind me. Then a person, either a lady with hands in her back pockets, or a gent on a ramble down the hill, walks by with a dangling lead, or one of those tennis ball chuckers. Moments later their dog appears, pants toward me, and then sniffs my trainers.

“Chester!” (or whatever) calls the walker, first in a sing-song voice.

“Hello!” I say to the dog in a friendly, surprised way. Chester ignores his master, and has a go at my shoelaces instead.

The second shout is always imperious. It takes me by surprise how little it has to do with me, the only other human in the equation. It should be no surprise that dog-owners value their dogs more than they do strangers, but it is, somehow still alarming, every time. For a moment I wonder which of us they would rescue first, if the dog and I were somehow trapped in ice. I know though.

“Chester! Come on!”

The crossness works, and Chester scuttles off after his owner, tail wagging happily in the fresh air as he disappears into the long grass. Soon the dog-walker is gone too, and I can listen to the birds again, until the next pug, spaniel, or terrier comes panting up behind me.

All the dogs on one planet. Amazing. I’ve not seen an Afghan Hound or a St Bernard here though. Maybe if I stayed long enough in the park, I would. I think an Afghan Hound would be too posh to sniff my manky old shoelaces. A St Bernard would slobber all over them probably, and that experience alone would be unpleasant enough for me to crack open the little keg of brandy it carries. Then the owner would have to talk to me.

It must have its moments, owning a dog. They say dogs are always pleased to see you. They forget quickly, and forgive easily - as though they were genetically programmed to be the opposite of cats. I like that. I don’t much like the idea of the maintenance though. I’ll happily sit here of an evening and have my trainers examined by curious canines but the thought of turning a squelchy plastic bag inside out, and scooping it into a waste bin... makes me heave a bit.

I like the park though. And the dogs of the universe do too, it seems. And they are welcome.