“Who’s a good boy?” Adam called out to Bandit. “You’re a good boy. Oh yes you are.”
“If he’s such a good boy,” Sally said, “Why isn’t he listening to you? He’s just trotting away, not bringing the ball back.”
“He’ll bring it back to me when he’s ready,” Adam said to Sally. And then turning to Bandit, he said, “Yes you will, because you’re a good boy.”
“You seriously need to take that dog to obedience school,” Sally said.
“He is obedient,” Adam insisted, “But on his own terms, that’s all.”
“So who’s the master and who’s the pet in this dynamic?” Sally asked, “because he does whatever he wants and not what you want him to.”
As Adam and Sally were watching Bandit play in the pond’s shallow water, two men came up behind them. “Your wallets and your phones,” one of them, brandishing a knife, said. Sally screamed and Adam called out, “Bandit!”
The large golden retriever bounded out of the water, barking loudly. The man with the knife dropped it, and the two horrified muggers ran off.
“Who’s a good boy?” Sally said, bending down to embrace Bandit when he came running back to them. “You’re a good boy. Oh yes you are.”
Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Photo credit: MorgueFileJune2018 1418535473h5g6w. Sorry I went over the 200 word limit by seven words.