Who’s Walking Whom

Restrained on a leash that extends ten feet or so, the little pooch is as compact as a battery and charged with as much energy. With his tail erect perfectly to the perpendicular, he beams a well-being almost bursting, too potent for his little frame. He tugs and pulls and strains valiantly against the taut leash as if to snap it and scurry off free and wherever his nose will lead. His feet are short and small and move with the blurred rapidity of a frightened centipede, while his mistress, elderly and puffing, lunges forward at an angle that threatens to bring the pavement to her face.