When I go up town for my morning coffee and medal-winning sprint around the park on my stalwart rollator, I notice 2 things, both about dogs. Please accept that I do like most dogs and had a beloved one myself who, before her departure to that great kennel in the sky, enjoyed roaming the countryside, sniffing at unspeakable objects. If they were sufficiently disgusting to the human eye and nose, she would roll voluptuously in them and refuse to be bathed afterwards, because that made her an outcast from other canines. She also loved playing with her unfortunately odourless, clockwork mouse. A superb animal who led an animal's life. (The dog, not the mouse).
Now that my eyes have dried and I can read what I have written, I realise that I have strayed from my theme. The first thing that I observe is that dogs are now going to cafes, although maintaining a sardonic distance from human coffee culture. It won't be long before they have their own urban venues and meet their friends there.
How will they get to Canine Cafe? In the doggy prams that I have also observed. The owners will take them, give them the right money and leave them to chat and socialise.
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| One hour, and no gossiping about me, please. |
You wait: it will happen and all you can do is restrict your pooch's pocket money.
