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dog plays fetch with dog

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

The view from my apartmemt includes the commons in "downtown" Halifax. It's a fine view, and well worth the traffic noise, such as it is in this sleepy town.

A couple of months ago, I noticed a fellow who hangs around the bleachers of the nearest softball diamond. He's there with his dog all the time. He'll throw a ball, and the dog will return it. When the dog does so, it drops the ball and the ball rolls under the bleachers. Then the man has to get down under the bleachers to retrieve the ball. When he gets it back, he throws it again, only to find himself tangled up in the bleachers again.

Is this a cry for help? Is there something special to the area under those bleachers that the casual observer can't appreciate? Why doesn't the man simply move a few metres away?

Whenever I'm coming home and I see him there, I want to go up and ask him, "What the hell, man?" Maybe someday I will. Or maybe I'll leave the poor bugger alone.