Stick Throwing.

When I was at the park today I watched a bloke throwing a stick. He was a tall thin bloke. He looked a bit stick-like himself. He had on a baseball cap and some of his hair was poking through the gap at the back of it. What he did was, he threw the stick as far as he could and then he ran and picked it up and threw it again. I watched him doing this while I was walking around the park with Mia the German Shepherd. After about ten minutes of throwing the stick he picked it up and sat down on the bench at the far end of the park looking a bit knackered. He looked at me as I approached and I smiled and said, “You ought to get yourself a dog and save yourself having to keep running after that stick.”

“The trouble with dogs,” he said, looking at Mia and sounding a bit out of breath, “the trouble with dogs is they chew sticks and make them all slobbery and then you have to find another stick.”

“That’s true,” I said.

“And another thing,” he said, wiping his shirtsleeve across his face, “I have had this stick for a while now and I don’t want it getting damaged.” At this he held the stick up for me to admire. This caused Mia the German Shepherd to get excited. Luckily, she was on her lead or she might have snatched it from his hand. As sticks go I must say it was a fine-looking stick. “I always cut the ends of my sticks and round them off with sandpaper,” he went on, “this is the best length and diameter for throwing and I leave the bark on to get a good grip. This one is one of my best ones.”

“How many sticks have you got?” I asked.

“Fifty-three,” he said sounding quite proud of the fact.

“Well,” I said, “it sounds like a good way to keep fit.”

“Oh, I don’t do it to keep fit,” he said, I just do it because I enjoy it.” And with that he stood up, threw his stick with a mighty grunt and ran off after it.