Photons are produced in the center of the Sun through quantum actions. It may take a photon 100,000 years to reach the Sun’s surface. Then, eight minutes to reach the Earth.

What must some of the photons who reached Ralph while he walked his dog, Frodo, have experienced that Sunday morning, as Frodo finished peeing over Mr. Sawyer’s rhododendrons? Mr. Sawyer was attached – some would say almost pathologically attached – to the rhododendron bushes in his small yard. Frodo had done a great job as far as urination was concerned. The photons illuminating Frodo’s stream  were as energized as any in the neighborhood.

“I’ve had it with you and your dog,” said Mr. Sawyer.

“It’s a free country,” said Ralph, for some reason.

“No one’s free to pee on my bushes,” objected Mr. Sawyer, who threw a bucket of water over Ralph. The old man was prepared.

The photons emanating from Ralph’s wet head and shirt were on the damp, low-intensity side. Those from Frodo were a little more intense. Simple Newtonian mechanics could have plotted the path of Mr. Sawyer’s closed fist towards Ralph’s face and the potential impact.

“Oh, no. Stop. Someone stop him.”

Ralph turned towards Sylvia’s voice. She was walking her Yorkshire Terrier. Ralph liked Sylvia, as so many did, but had not yet summoned the courage to ask her out or engage her in more than trivial conversation. “That’s quite a stick you have,” she said the last time they walked the dogs. Ralph said he never knew when he might need to throw something for Frodo to retrieve. He came prepared.

Mr. Sawyer’s fist flew past Ralph’s face. So Ralph retained his teeth. What might’ve happened had Sylvia not called out? What might’ve happened if Sylvia’s Yorkshire Terrier had not taken off? The Terrier wanted to take on Frodo. The Yorkie furiously ran across the street.

In the Universe, nothing is as fast as a photon. Nothing exceeds the speed of a photon. Yorkshire Terriers are compact, with short legs. But, slipping the leash, the Yorkie crossed the street in no time, after Sylvia screamed.

As the dogs fought, Ralph wondered if this was the time to ask Sylvia out. What could be a better time? Or place? And what could be a better time for Mr. Sawyer to get another bucket of water? He didn’t care if he threw another one over Sylvia. She crossed the street to retrieve Klondike, the Yorkie.

Photons from the Sun continued their illumination onto Sylvia. Those were the lucky ones. Others, landing on Ralph, Frodo, Klondike, and Mr. Sawyer, who returned with his bucket, may have wondered whether the hundred thousand years, then the eight-minute trip, had been worth it. Might it not be better to continue on into limitless space? There’s something to be said for limitless space. More than to be said, obviously, for illuminating fighting dogs, a water bucket, rhododendrons, and Ralph, smiling awkwardly at Sylvia.