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Dogs
It was such a fine day. The sun was doing its November shine. Auckland was a beautiful place to be. The sudden change from winter to summer — it felt like there was no spring.
The dogs had retreated to the shade of the fence.
The other dogs out walking had a free path; it was too hot to bark at them.
Usually the neighbour cut the verge, but during the week Mrs B had used the electric mower to cut a racetrack around the flowers.
She was giving it a touch-up and talking to Maxine, a neighbour from further down the street.
“What a lovely pattern, Ruth. You’re so clever.”
He finished making a kumara pie with turmeric and black pepper and wandered out slowly to the gate and leaned on it.
“Hi — you watching your wife work?” She had known him for twenty years.
He sprang to his hind legs. “No, I’ve been making dinner.”
“What did you make?”
“Sweet potato pie.”
“Oh, wonderful.”
Marble wandered over and licked his hand. He got down from his high horse.
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