quote-of-the-saturday

QOTS: "a fair-sized maple tree stood in front of the girls' private school - one of four or five trees on that fortunate side of the street - and at the moment a child of seven or eight, female, was hiding behind it. She was wearing a navy-blue reefer and a tam that was very nearly the same shade of red as the blanket on the bed in van Gogh's room at Arles. Her tam did, in fact, from Zooey's vantage point, appear not unlike a dab of paint. Some fifteen feet away from the child, her dog- a young dachshund, wearing a green leather collar and leash -was sniffing to find her, scurrying in frantic circles, his leash dragging behind him. The anguish of separation of scarcely bearable for him, and when at last he picked up his mistress' scent, it wasn't a second too soon. The joy of reunion, for both, was immence. The dachshund gave a little yelp, then cringed forward, shimmying with ecstasy, till his mistress, shouting something at him, stepped hurriedly over the wire guard surrounding the tree and picked him up. She said a number of words of praise to him, in the private argot of the game, then put him down and picked up his leash, and the two walked gaily west, toward Fifth Avenue and the Park and out of Zooey's sight." - Salinger