A Game Without a Game Plan

The basket stood beside the spread-out blanket. Puschel took out a small soft red ball. This time he had packed it himself at home. The island’s play ball had stayed there in its materials tray. Their broad, dry woodland meadow offered plenty of room, well away from the water.

Puschel“I brought something in case we feel like playing.”

Flauschi“What kind of game?”

Puschel“Gentle passes. No goals and no points. You do not have to organise it.”

Flauschi looked at the ball, then at the trees. She did not have to decide straight away. Puschel put the ball down and let her look around quietly. The boat and basket stood outside the playing area.

Flauschi“A few passes would be lovely.”

They stood a little way apart on the grass. Flauschi nudged the ball gently. Puschel stopped it and rolled it back. One pass went sideways. He fetched it without asking Flauschi to arrange them in a better position.

Puschel“My foot just discovered a surprising side street.”

They laughed at the next pass. Puschel was about to collect three markers for another round. Then he noticed that they liked the quiet rolling back and forth. Not every good minute needed to become something bigger immediately.

Flauschi paused when the ball reached her again. She looked towards the bench.

Flauschi“That is enough for me now. I would rather sit for a while.”

Puschel“Then this is where your playing time ends.”

He rolled the ball aside and put it in the basket. There was no compulsory last round, and no question about whether she might carry on just to please him. Flauschi sat on the bench. Puschel stayed on the meadow for a moment and stretched his paws.

A game without a game plan had still been a game together. Puschel had prepared a possibility; Flauschi had been able to accept it and then finish. When he later sat beside her, neither of them talked about points. They listened to the rustling above their heads.