The blind hound despondently poked around for while, sniffing here and there and dejectedly peeing on this and that, until I took pity on him.
"Do you wanna go for a walk, Ray?" I asked my lonely dog.
Ray looked at me from the middle of the park, his head cocked to one side.
"C'mon Ray, let's go," I said as I walked toward him.
Ray turned and idly walked away.
I picked up my pace a bit.
"C'mon Ray, let's go for a walk," I repeated.
Ray picked up his pace, putting a bit more distance between us.
Two could play at that game. I jogged toward him (at least, as much as I could while weighed down with 50 pounds of clothing).
"I'm going to get you," I said to my dog.
Ray jogged away, trying to stall until one of his friends arrived. I followed after him, calling and whistling (neither of which ever works - I don't know why I bother) then turned and headed for the gate. Ray heard the latch open and stopped his evasive maneuvers. I stepped through the gate and let the latch fall into place.
"Bye, Ray," I called.
Ray paused briefly then worriedly made a beeline towards me, fooled by the oldest trick in the book.
I let him through the gate, slipped his collar over his ears, and took him for a nice brisk walk.