When the Dish ran away with the Spoon, the Little Dog laughed.
It’s true it was a less weird pairing than that Owl and Pussycat he’d heard about, but he thought it would end in much the same way. At least, he supposed the Owl and the Pussycat had come to a bad end; he had heard no more about them after they had reached the land where the Bong-tree grows. He doubted that they were still living in the happy bliss of harmony. He remembered the Owl’s singing.
Besides, the Dish was an impulsive creature. The Spoon would probably tire of him soon enough. The Spoon was dependable and liked things to be just-so, and to have plans seen through, not changed at the last minute. The Dish could barely keep a plan for five minutes.
No, thought the Little Dog, the Dish and the Spoon would not last long. Probably less time than the Owl and the Pussycat.
And with that, the Little Dog went back to the spectacle which was the Cow jumping over the moon and the rest of the animals dancing to the Cat’s fiddle-playing.