I’m dog-sitting today, and what a lovely task it is. Every once in a while I break from work to play with the doggy, who’s very happy to see me every time, and very keen to be petted, scritched and entertained. She’s happy, I’m happy, it’s great.*
Of course, I can’t help but imagine a girl in my place who is supposed to be getting ready for exams. She’s meant to be sitting at her desk, following a busy task calendar. Only, she doesn’t. Every fifteen minutes or so she breaks to play with her dog, and every break grows longer and longer, until the afternoon turns into a long session of playing with the dog, with an occasional studying break.
The girl’s mother warns her once. Twice. Eventually, Mum’s patience runs thin. The dog is locked in the kitchen, while the girl is turned over the back of the sofa for a very thorough spanking with her mother’s hairbrush. The spanking continues for a good, long while, and afterwards the girl is sent back to her desk, to sit on her sore bottom and concentrate on her work.
And her mum goes to play with the dog, instead.
* The cat is not happy. But she’s not big on playing with me, so.