The dog sat watching his master and mistress in the garden.
He was reading. He paused to think about how much he enjoyed coming out to sit at this small table. He often came here to read a book when the weather was right. He watched her picking something. The book he was reading wasn’t the best. His friend had recommended something. He couldn’t remember the title, but he was sure he’d written it down; on a napkin. They were out with their friends for a meal. His was delicious. He thought about how he’d enjoyed the potatoes so much that he had asked the waiter about them. He said they were Oca, more commonly referred to as New Zealand Yam. He’d never heard of it. He looked over to where she was doing something with the soil; maybe weeding. He wondered whether Oca could be grown in the garden. He would ask her later. His mouth watered just thinking about it.
She was pruning. Just snipping bits off here and there. She felt she was just having fun, rather than making any real difference in the garden. She had never thought of herself as a gardener. She thought about how much her mother loved it. She would spend endless hours in their back garden. She had spent ten minutes plucking dead leaves off of their small apple tree in the corner. She had no real idea whether you did that to an apple tree. It didn’t matter on a weekend. It was relaxation time, wasn’t it? After all, they both worked. She looked back. He was still reading. He loves his reading. What will I get tonight? We can have chicken. She carried her garden bin to another spot. Yes, she could do one of his favourites, Chicken Kashmiri. Maybe this time she would up the chili powder to one teaspoon.
He was laying on the back door mat. He watched them. She kept walking around the garden, but he didn’t move much. He just sat at the table. They didn’t do this very often, just once in a while. On days like this he didn’t get a walk. That was all right, he was quite comfortable where he was. They didn’t talk much when this happens. He felt a rumble in his stomach. He didn’t like the stuff she put down last week. It tasted really bad. Just couldn’t eat it. Left most of it. He guessed, from her tone, she was disappointed. He was thinking, I hope she got something different when she shopped this morning. Anyway, they’ve been in the garden a long time. It’s getting late. He thought, they’ll be feeding me soon.
