The other day, a girl by me on her sleek silver scooter (the one you always had from grade school, but had kept in the garage the minute you started middle school and then grabbed off the wall in a fit of fancy as you started college). Apparently, and for some unknown reason, she hadn't strapped a certain doggy companion down tight enough. And at the end of a long woven leash, Fido dragged and bounced across wet, cold and probably very hard concrete.
I felt a pang of sympathy for the dog, as its beady eyes looked pleadingly, no with humiliation at me. I'm glad it wasn't my dog. It might lean a bit to one side after that excursion.
. . . . .No the dog wasn't real. . . . .I hope.
This made me laugh.
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