On June 15, 2005 by Eden M. Kennedy

Things people have said to me recently while stopping to pet my dog.

Girl who works at Otherworld Tattoo: “Oh, she’s licking my toes.” (Pauses, steps back.) “Sorry, that’s creepy. No matter who does it.”

Guy sitting at a cafe table on State St., leaning over to pet Katie: “Uh oh, I’m going to be in trouble when I get home.”
Me: “You have a dog waiting for you?”
Guy: “Yeah.”
Me: “You’re being unfaithful.”
Guy: “Nah, a biscuit will fix everything.”

Seventyish lady in a green sweater set who saw Katie in my back seat and stopped me in the Gelson’s parking lot to tell me this story through my car window: “I was just in New York and my husband and I were on the upper east side when I stopped to pet a beautiful boxer dog. And the man holding his leash said, ‘Here,’ and handed me the leash and then went into the deli that was right there. He got whatever he needed and then he came out and took the boxer’s leash from me and then walked away without saying another word. I must have a trustworthy face.”

Miscellaneous interjections:
“Is that a boxer?”
“Is that a pit bull?”
“Is that a French bulldog?”
“What is he?”
“Does he bite?”
“Does he drool?”
“Is that an old dog?”
“Is that a puppy?”
“We have a dog like that. His name is Mr. Bubbas.”
“I know a dog like that. His name is Winston.”
“That looks like the Zelda dog.”
“Katie? That’s my girlfriend’s name.”

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