Where Genres Collide Traci Dowe YA Author

We woke, the dog and I, to a white and wintry world. A hard frost stuck the soles of my slippers to the path as I went out to retrieve the first ball of the day. I have attempted to explain, over the years, that, given both her species and her parentage… she is supposed to do the retrieving, but if the grass is cold, wet or muddy, she disagrees. She gets it half right…the setter half of her will ‘set’, freezing into the classic stance and indicating the ball’s position with every tense line of her body. It is the retrieving half she refuses to acknowledge, except for the Toller’s ‘song’ with which she is apt to communicate if I am not taking enough notice. Especially when a ball is in play.

So, in naught but dressing gown and slippers, I went out into the frozen morning to retrieve…