Old Tom Too

I bumped into Old Tom again today.

"Morning George" he said.

"Morning ..."

"... Tom" he interrupted. He always interrupts!

I sighed.

"Have you and, er, your dog ..." he nodded towards Sym, "... been to the park then"?

"Good grief! That's amazing" I said. "How on earth did you know"?

"Deductive reasoning" said Tom. "Eat your heart our Sherlock Holmes. Let me see ... you've got the dog with you, you've got wellingtons on your feet, a ball in your hand and you're both covered in mud. QED".

"And the fact that that we are, in actual fact, still in the park"?

"Oh that! That was a dead give away, that was".

I mentally shook my head and wished, not for the first time, that I was elsewhere and that some other poor soul was enduring this encounter with Tom. Anyone, just not me.

"Anyway" continued Tom. "I was watching you throw the ball. Your Sym runs a little bit effeminately if you ask me".

I was stunned. "He's a dog! How can a dog run effeminately"?

"His hips. They sway".

"They do not sway! He's all dog. There is nothing girlie about my dog"!

"Is too!

"Shut up Tom" I said as I bent forward to cover Sym's ears. "He may not have any nuts but my boy is as Dog as Dog gets".

"Isn't".

"Is too!"

"Isn't!"

"Look Tom, he's male through and through. He even humps legs and regularly bonks his bedding".

"He probl'ly does that just to fool you" countered Tom.

"He's straight and that's final! I know you, Tom. You're just determined to have the last word. Well it ain't gonna work this time. He's straight; not at all girlie. Got it"?

There was a short, uncomfortable silence.

"He's gay"!

"Tom"!!!

"Sorry ..." said Tom. "... but he is"!

"Right ....."

We were separated some ten minutes later by a couple of passing police officers.