Decisions

Biscuit looked up at Smudge. Smudge looked down at Biscuit. It had quietly turned into a competition of who knew what they were doing the least. It was close—very close—but Smudge won. (He had years of practice.)

“Right,” Smudge said, brushing crumbs from his mouth. “One thing’s for sure… the Sanctuary of Symmetry isn’t here.”

“Woof!” Biscuit barked in full agreement.

“I guess we should just set off then,” Smudge continued.

“Woof!” Biscuit barked in agreement once more.

“Every journey begins with a single step,” Smudge declared as he placed one foot very dramatically in front of him and marched down the garden path. Biscuit trotted behind, tail and hopes high.

This is easy, Smudge thought—until…

They reached the garden gate and stepped out.

Now came the tricky bit.

Left… or right?

Smudge stood very still, tapping his chin.

Left looked sensible. Left looked tidy. Left looked like the sort of direction someone would choose if they wanted to make a proper decision—an adult decision.

That’s me, Smudge thought proudly. Smudge the adult.

“Left seems right,” he said confidently—though he did pause for a moment to wonder how left could possibly be right, but decided not to worry about it.

And so, with great seriousness, he turned left.

Biscuit, however, did not.

Smudge walked a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, Biscuit! We are going left! Left is right!”

Biscuit looked at Smudge, quite rightly, as if Smudge was actually wrong, then planted himself like a tiny, furry statue. Turning away from Smudge, he stared down the right-hand path with deep dog seriousness.

Smudge took a few more steps. “Biscuit,” he tried again, “this way…”

Biscuit moved not one inch. He was an excellent example of the opposite of moving.

This was all very strange. Biscuit usually followed Smudge everywhere—into cupboards, under tables, even once into a recycling bin (they nearly got recycled). But now? Now Biscuit just wasn’t interested.

Smudge squinted—first at Biscuit, then at the right-hand path. It didn’t look especially special. Just a path. A very ordinary path. No glowing signs of destiny. No magical butterflies. Nothing.

Smudge sighed. “Fine. I’ll come your way. But only because you’re cute and I love you.”

So just like that, Smudge about-turned. He marched towards (and past) Biscuit, and headed down the right-hand path.

As he did, a quiet feeling fluttered inside him. Hmm… I guess right does feel kind of right, Smudge thought to himself. While he’d been busy trying to work everything out in his head, he hadn’t noticed how beautiful the right-hand path actually was. The trees seemed a little greener, the flowers a little brighter, and the sky above opened into a friendly blue.

When he glanced back toward the left-hand path, it already looked like it might rain.

Smudge straightened up and pretended this had been his plan all along. “Yes, well,” he said grandly, “I always knew right was right. How couldn’t it be?”

He looked back at Biscuit, who was already trotting confidently behind him, looking quietly victorious. Not for the first time, Smudge had the feeling Biscuit had some secret sense that couldn’t be explained in woofs. Or perhaps he was simply keeping it to himself. It was hard to tell.