Circling the Moon

[Ben Allen]

The moon is as big as the circle that you form around it with your fingers. Seahorses are land horses that have played in the surf at midnight. Goldfish can only say, "I love you." Treacle comes from treacle mines guarded by lions.

The final stretch of my daily dog walking route takes me across a disused cornfield, now taken over by a variety of weeds and wild rapeseed. It was in this field that I met a young girl and her father who were accompanied by a pair of huskies.

The girl introduced herself as 'Joanna, aged six.' Then, with the cute politeness of her years, she asked permission from her father and myself to fuss Oliver, my ageing golden retriever. With her request granted a cheerful Oliver received a thorough and enthusiastic ruffling of his fur. Once the petting had subsided to a slow firm stroking of Oliver's head, I asked, with the time honoured courtesy of one dog owner to another, the names of Joanna's huskies. The reply was delivered with unfaltering enthusiasm and an indisputable belief in the solidity of each fact:

"This is George and Georgina and they are husky dogs."

"They are both two years old, which is fourteen years old in dog years."

"Husky dogs come from Hiberia where it is always night-time and the houses are made of salt."

"George is Georgina's brother because they have the same mother."

"They have both had an operation so that they can't have children, which means that they can sleep together on the big blanket."

"They never fight or argue and they get on really well together because they aren't married."

Joanna paused for breath and then quietly confided, "It's the way of the world, you know."

After bidding Joanna and her father farewell, Oliver and I continued on our way. We stopped for a while at the old oak kissing gate that marks the exit from the cornfield. I leant on the gate and rolled a cigarette while Oliver lay at my feet and gazed along the pathway that cut through the swathes of rapeseed and assorted weeds.

"It's the way of the world, you know." I said to no-one in particular.

Oliver sniffed the air and gave the ground a lazy thump with his tail.

"Be sure to harvest the treacle at night," he said sagely, "when the lions are sleeping."

I decided to forgo the smoke and tucked the unlit roll up into my jacket pocket. Together, we set off for home, where my wife awaited our return, as patient and understanding as ever.

[Deborahhambrook]

Hi Ben what I liked about this, was the way you didn't give any direct opinions on anything, but just painted the scene, and told the story. I could just picture you rolling a fag at the end of your walk, then saving it for later. You captured for the reader, the character of your dog too. He sounds like a nice patient old boy.

Enjoyed,

Deb x

[Ben Allen]

Hi Deb,

Glad that you liked this.
I haven't really tried non-fiction before and couldn't help but get a bit 'creative' with it, it's in my nature, I think!

The conversation from the young girl is pretty much word for word, though. It left me quite thoughtful afterwards and her father had this kind of bemused look on his face, perhaps he was wondering Hiberia was.

My dog is easy going, he's thirteen now and still enjoys a good walk.

Thanks for commenting
Ben