Daisy on dramatic irony

Let me confide in you, says Daisy, nudging my hand. I could not find the beast in the garden. Outside, you said. I went to look. I tried the bed, as you suggested. I went down low. I waited patiently. But all the time it has been one step ahead. I trot after. Catch a whiff on the breeze. No, you say. I turn back. Off! you say. Bad dog! But I cannot see it, this bad dog of which you speak. I cannot get as far as it. Look! My tail is between my legs. I am sorry. It is quicker than me. More subtle. Shiftier. Look! I am sitting up straight now. I’ll do better next time. Let’s just get back to how things were. When it was just you and me. When there was no beast out there to be found.

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