Lily and Spud

Yesterday in the late afternoon I walked to Turbesi Park. Lily was frolicking in circles, squeezing an empty plastic water bottle in her mouth, when she suddenly stopped to watch a tiny dog in the adjacent ball field with three girls running after him. The kids were having so much fun, as if they had entered the outdoors for the first time in their lives; running, jumping, falling, chasing this fast little burnt-sienna-colored dog with ears that stood straight up. Their dad was outside the fence watching them. They threw a ball and a stick for him to fetch, shouting "Spud, fetch!" but he ignored their prompts. He just ran around in circles.

After Lily was done running in circles I put her leash back on and we walked along the path behind the other ball field. Spud ran up to the fence and met Lily nose to nose. Spud was wearing a blue plaid wool sweater. The girls asked me if I would bring Lily inside to play with them. I said, "I'm worried about Spud getting hurt. He is so delicate."
"What does that mean?" the younger girl asked.
"He has small, fragile arms and legs. Is he a Chihuahua?" I asked.
"No, he's a red miniature Doberman Pinscher," the oldest girl said. She had wavy long blond hair and thick black eyelashes. "He's strong and not afraid and runs fast," she said.
"Okay, as long as Lily doesn't knock him over. I wouldn't want him to get hurt. How about if I keep the leash on Lily until they get acquainted?"
"Does your dog chase balls?" The oldest girl asked, handing me a baseball she had found.
"Yes, but she loves empty plastic bottles the best because they are light and she makes them squeak and crunch in her mouth." I threw the empty plastic bottle and Lily ran after it with the red-and-black harlequin-patterned leash trailing on the grass. I ran over and unclipped it. She and Spud circled the field with full energy and joy.
"She runs like a reindeer. Makes me wish I could be a dog and play with a plastic bottle in my mouth!" the middle girl said.
The girls laughed and ran after Lily and the dogs seemed to be laughing too as they ran in high speed circles and zig-zagged around us. The father was amused and stood, leaning forward with folded arms, watching and smiling.
"Careful, don't get knocked over," I shouted to the girls.

At one point the smallest girl draped her whole body in its shocking pink jacket over Lily, hugging her like a pet pony.
"Our dog doesn't like to chase sticks or balls," the oldest girl said.
"Lily is a Labrador Retriever. She's bred to retrieve ducks out of water for hunters. The bottle is like a duck to her, that's why she chases it. I'm sure your dog has special characteristics. Does he dig holes?"
"Yes, sometimes."
"Chase mice?"
"No, we still have plenty of mice."
"Guard your house?"
"Yes!"
"Well, there you go, every dog has special traits. If you look in the encyclopedia you could probably find the special traits for your kind of dog."
"I heard from someone that the red miniature Dobermans are extra nice," she offered.

The girls didn't want me to leave and I didn't want to leave either. I stayed for a few more rounds of running with the girls and the dogs. Then Lily was tired out and was chewing on grass like a cow and biting at the clay field, which is what she does when she is thirsty and looking for water. I clipped the leash on her and started for the gate. Their dad called the girls to go home for supper. The oldest was carrying Spud like a baby in her arms. On my way home I saw the long-haired Husky trotting beside his master who was slowly bicycling down the street through the long, triangular shadows.