There is an elderly man down here at the park with two dogs, one of which is a titanic Saint Bernard. The dogs are romping and occasionally run into him, whereupon he staggers. Shep and I are watching and waiting for him to get romped into the lake.

Terrible photo, but you get the idea.

His companion is a big yellow lab who is now swimming in the lake with a large stick. The Saint Bernard is trying to get the stick, but the lab is swimming circles around him.

...I’m not actually sure the Saint is swimming, he seems to just be walking on the lakebed.

The lab has a giant stick the size of my leg and is super proud of it. His owner is throwing a ball. The lab is confused. Stick is obviously superior to Ball!

Oh lord. The Lab decided his owner does not realize what he wants, took the Good Stick, swam to the ball dragging the stick, came back, and triumphantly dropped the Good Stick at his owner’s feet.

The ball floats forlornly in the lake.

Owner attempts to convey that he really wants the ball. The Lab takes the Good Stick with him to retrieve it, but cannot get both ball and Good Stick into his mouth. Obviously he cannot abandon Good Stick! No one could expect that!

He has made three attempts now. Shep says “He just can’t quit Stick.”

For a few minutes, he was trying to use the stick to push the ball toward the shore, but fluid dynamics is hard.

We have been introduced. The Lab is Timber and the Bernard is Driftwood. Timber is making attempt four on Ball. He is still carrying the Good Stick.

The owner is trying to convey that it is time to leave the park. The Lab is not abandoning Good Stick and is now on the opposite side of our tiny lake, grinning hugely around his stick. The ball floats on against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Shep informs me that the owner had a working class Boston accent. We left him there, having tenderly seat-belted the Bernard into the back seat, still waiting on the Lab and Stick.