TheBanyanTree: Every Paul Has His Day

[trebro at att.net]

“There he goes again!”
“There who goes again?”
“That silly basset hound the neighbor owns.  He managed to find a way off the leash for what?  The third time this month?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t counting.”
“That’s the problem with you, Wilbur, you never pay attention to such things.”
Wilbur scratched his head.  “I try not to worry about things I can’t control.  That’s why I’m the one who still has hair left.”
“Oh, whenever!”
“That’s ‘whatever’, Paul.”
“I knew that.”
“Sure you did.”
“Look!  Just look at him!  He ran right up to that baby carriage, and poked his head in.  The nerve of that dog!”
“Yes, he’s truly a regular rebel, sniffing and investigating things.  Not dog-like at all.”
“But what if the baby was scared?”
“What if he was, Paul?  Are you going to rise up, run over to the complete stranger with a young child, and right the wrongs brought on by canine injustice?”
“Maybe I will!”
“Be my guest.  I’d like to see you do it.  For too long, we’ve just sat here, feeding the pigeons illegally, as our social security checks collect interest in the local bank on the corner.”
“Darn right!”
“But don’t let Martha catch you—she won’t like you talking to a pretty blonde.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m booked for The Tonight Show next week.”
“Bah.  At least I’m doing something.  You just watch.”
Wilbur watched as Paul moved off the new plastic bench—Wilbur missed the feel of a good wooden park bench, but understood the reality of the need for a more durable solution—and got to his feet as quickly as possible.  Paul fairly lurched forward, coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress, as of the days of old.
That was when the basset hound made a beeline for him.
Paul never saw it coming, and there was no time for Wilbur to warn him.  He went down like a wide receiver catching a pass over the middle, if Paul was forced to pick an analogy, which he generally preferred not to do.  The dog, startled, stopped and began to lick Paul’s face.  The young mother, closest to the scene, ran over to make sure he was okay.
“Do I need to call 911?”
“I’m fine.”
Wilbur got off the bench and wandered over.  “I’m proud of you, Paul.  For the first time in years, you took action instead of just watching.”
The basset licked Paul again, prompting him to stagger to his feet.  The mother returned to her baby.
“I really did do something today, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.  You even managed to calm the dog.”
“We could take him to his owner’s house, you know.”  Paul took the leash.
“We sure could, Paul.”
“Let’s do that.”
“Why not?  I could use a stretch.  Too many years of just sitting.”
“Oh, and Wilbur?”
“Yes, Paul?”
“That blond had really beautiful eyes.”
“I’m sure she did, Paul.  I’m sure she did.”