Not-At-All-Tall Tilly Tales by Irena Szirtes ... ... ... ... 1: Tig's Tale.

Tilly                                           credit Irena Szirtes

    Bouncy-black, all waggy and rear-end wriggly, she tore round Tilly again and again  while we walked toward the field. Tig belonged to a fellow yardie, and the yard was a great place for dogs to play - or grab extra walks at turnout time. We loved turnout.The still place we inhabited in liberty sessions made me aware of Tilly's footfall, of distant birdsong,  of grass-munching close by. We were both super-chilled: I sang silly songs to Tilly, or told her things you only tell good friends. Her favourite grazing was the woods field. She always quickened her step as we turned toward it, and Tig would happily adapt her pace to her very own mobile race-track. Round and round, round and round, while Tilly walked on as if there wasn't a dog in sight.

     One morning, everything changed. Tig, tired of her old game, began dodging  in, out, and around Tilly's back legs. Did Tilly go to kicking out, freaking out?  Absolutely not. She stopped. She turned her neck. She lowered her head to spaniel height. She looked hard into two appealing eyes. Tig stopped, and a moment passed between them before she trotted back to the yard. She wasn't afraid, just suitably chastened, and never accompanied us again.