Daisy on beauty

Off we go! As always, a bird appears on the grass in front of us. As always, Daisy hurls herself towards it. She hates birds. As always, the bird pegs it into a bush. I say as always. Once, when the bird was a duck, it stood its ground, and Daisy came to a halt beside it, uncomprehendingly. They eyed each other before the duck slipped away. And now, today, as Daisy gains ground on the bird, a second bird, huge and white, lifts itself out of the undergrowth. Its wings are the moon in summer. And heavy too. Look at that! I want to say. You have shocked some beauty into the world! But Daisy does not turn her head. Too ghostly for her. Too bird-like. Too downright annoying.

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