Looking Back
KENNETH M. KAPP
“Damm it, Kitty, stop sniffing.” Chuck pulled on the leash, turned to Hank who was patiently waiting two steps ahead, “Dumb dog wants to smell everything. No wonder we’re both getting fat. Can’t call our start/stop battle exercise.”
Hank came back and extended his arm. “Want me to take her? You can power walk ahead and back and meet us at the corner. It’ll give you and the dog a break.”
“Thanks, it’s not necessary. You’re the go-ahead-guy. You’ll end up choking the mutt. Me, I understand her. Guess I’m impatient with myself too, always looking back, thinking what if…
“Damm it, Kitty, you’ve already marked that tree; we’re not going back!”
He tugged on the leash, appealing to his friend, “What did I just say. Now she thinks she’s missed something and wants to go back!”
Hank smiled and reached out once again for the leash. “Chuck, why don’t you let me try. At least to the corner. At this rate, we'll miss Happy Hour—even tomorrow's.”
“Yeh, OK. Good luck. Still, it’s funny, me and my pooch always looking back. Why do you think that is?”
“Can’t answer for you, Chuck. But for Kitty I’d guess she’s just looking for where she took her last dump.”
“Yeh, maybe life’s like that too!”
Kenneth M. Kapp lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, writing late at night in his man-cave. www.kmkbooks.com