Me and George

Lookin' Good

There is no such thing as a boring walk.  There’s always...

1. Someone to meet (human and/or canine);
2. Something to sniff (I’m a big fan of corner fences); and/or 
3. Someplace to pull (usually from one side of the street to the other).
   

On Saturday, Sister took me for a walk to the park and, aside from pulling her from one side of the block to the other, I got to meet not one but two new human friends. 

At first, I didn’t realize that Sister and I weren’t alone on the block—I was too busy sniffing every fence post and blade of grass to notice.  I only realized that a man and a woman were walking toward us when Sister pulled me aside onto the apron between the sidewalk and the street to allow the couple to pass us by unobstructed on the sidewalk. 

But pass us by they did not. Instead, they stopped and extended their hands for me to sniff.  Obviously friend and not foe, I leaned in toward both to take advantage of the scratches they seemed so eager to share.  “What’s his name?” the woman asked as I dragged my drooly frothy chin across her black sweater sleeve from wrist to elbow.  Sister, speaking on my behalf because I was too busy enjoying all the attention to respond myself, shared my name, apologized for the drool, and then engaged in a conversation with the couple about what a good boy I am and how I’m just a big softie (luckily there were no other dogs around to hear this admission). 

“How old is he?” the friendly lady with the drool up and down her arm asked. 

“Almost twelve and a half years old,” Sister replied. 

The man and the woman gasped and commented on how handsome and good looking I am. 

What can I say?  I’m the George Clooney of dogs.