Fetch! (OTA)

[swain_o]

Chris and Red are in the park, playing fetch with a tennis ball that has seen better times. The dog doesn't seem to mind its state, and he clearly isn't shy of water, happily jumping into the lake after the ball

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[zombie_on_call]

I didn't stand a chance in hell of stopping Mr. Magoo from chasing the other dog's ball. The best I could do was to stumble along behind, dragged by his leash.

When Red got the ball back to Chris, Mr. Magoo abruptly changed direction and I ended up being dragged in front of the sailor's feet. "Oh, thank god," I breathed as Mr. Magoo came to a stop. "He didn't go into the lake..."

[swain_o]

Chris stoops to pick up the ball, and then sees more fur out of the corner of his eye as he straightens again, followed by a familiar face being dragged behind on the other end a leash.

Red stops his bouncing and rather trots over to sniff at the newcomer.

"You could've let go of the leash," he suggests. "But you're better off than me." His front looks like he's sprinted through a rain shower.

[zombie_on_call]

"What," I gasped, "And let him win?"

I unhooked my fingers from the St. Bernard's leash and made my way up to my feet, checking myself. No worse for wear, really. Nothing showing that wasn't supposed to, anyway.

"How've you been?" I asked.

[swain_o]

"Letting him win seems better than an involuntary bath in the pond," Chris chuckles.

As for her question, he shrugs. "Orright, I guess. He won't let me loaf too much," he says and nods towards his dog who's getting acquainted with the St. Bernard. "You? How's it going?"