A Pass Is a Beginning

The soft red ball lay in the materials tray at the island’s little play area. Puschel knew from their first visit that they were allowed to use it. Today he had not packed a ball of his own. He picked up the island ball and pointed towards the broad, dry meadow, well away from the water.

Puschel“Would you like a few gentle passes?”

Flauschi“Yes. And afterwards I would like another rest.”

Puschel nodded. He put the basket and boat outside their playing area. Then he held the little ball in both paws at his belly. Flauschi stood a few steps away and opened her paws. Puschel made a gentle underarm throw; the ball bounced onto the grass before her.

Puschel“The first pass has already said hello to the ground.”

Flauschi picked it up and played it back. They needed no goals and no proof of who was best. Once the distance became too large. They both moved closer instead of making the next throw harder.

Puschel glanced towards the note about joining in. An invitation alone could not make its writer appear today or feel brave straight away. Even a friendly meadow could not promise that nobody would ever be left out.

Puschel“Later I want to ask more often whether someone would like to play.”

Flauschi“And listen if they would rather watch first.”

Puschel“Or if they do not want to today.”

Flauschi smiled. When she had had enough, she said so. Puschel took the ball and returned it to the materials tray. There was no final round she still owed him.

On their way to the bench, Puschel thought of a small invitation for their woodland clearing at home. No registration for a grand tournament, no timetable. Perhaps someone could find company or a gentle pass there when the two of them had time.

He told Flauschi without handing her the organising. They liked the idea. When and with whom it might happen could remain open. The first pass had not been a trophy. It had still been a good beginning.