Art and Flowers

A Story by ZackOfBridge

A tail of dog and man

    Buster the airedale terrier did not understand much of the world in which he barked and scratched and he understood much less of art. He did not know or respect Monet, Van Gogh, Goya or Pollock. The one person he knew and understood was his master that clung to the controlling end of the leash.
    Now, at the outside viewing art gallery, he had lost some of that understanding. His master tilted his head at the works in front of them. His master tugged the leash not allowing them to keep walking. To Buster they were meaningless patterns of black and white. But to his master they meant something and he accepted this.
     Buster and and his master ended their viewing at the art gallery and caught a dirt trail on their walk. At a single flower, Buster tugged his master to a stop. His master did not understand Buster’s fascination, but accepted.
    Red or Blue, Buster did not know. Without color, with no need of color, Buster smelled the flower. He smelled the remnants of the infant seed from which it blossomed, and he inhaled the aroma of the earth from which the roots were nurtured. He smelled the honey bees and their pollen thighs. He smelled and he understood.
    Buster the dog lifted his leg and took a long relieving piss on the flower.