Story of a Photo

I’m sitting at the top of the steps of a local church, holding onto Polla, Henne’s dog, who Barry and I are taking for an afternoon stroll. She’s curled up beside me, snoring gently.

I spot a woman down on the street taking photos. I grab my camera to take a picture of her taking a picture.

Suddenly a woman comes up to me, her eyes lighting up seeing Polla, and asks if she can stroke her. As soon as she does, Polla wakes up and jumps up and down. I wait patiently for this lovefest to simmer down so I can take my photo.

Barry wanders by. I say, “B, would you hold Polla?” He takes hold of her but then he and Polla are in the way of the woman on the street taking the picture. They saunter slowly out of the church and just as they’re out of sight, I think, “Actually, Barry and Polla in the foreground, the woman in the background—that would make a great photoi!” I call Barry but he’s on the other side of a thick church wall out of earshot.

But after all this, the woman is still there on the street, so I go back to my original plan and take the photo.

It turns out fuzzy.