Mr Pinky
Mr Pinky
We make our temporary roost in the heart of town.
I watch the world go by from Master’s side. People stop and talk to us. They rub my head, behind my ears. I look up silently. I save my words for Master.
Lunchtime comes and lunch is served. People point and coo.
Later, people pass with bags of wares, eager to get going.
Dusk falls. We depart, traversing the barren streets, bathed in salmon light.
We arrive at home in time for dinner – my favourite time of day. Once grub is served I look up and say, ‘Thank you, Master’.
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© 2015 Ruth Hayward – This material may not be copied in whole or in part without the prior written consent of the author. Please contact the author here to request permission to duplicate.
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