High noon

Juggling a dog and a pram is easier on days when its not raining. Adding a wind-blown umbrella creates too many moving parts.

Buddy’s pretty good, he rarely pulls at the lead and he’s almost go the hang of ‘single file’ when there’s other foot traffic but sometimes that’s not enough. 

High noon style, I was being stared down by a bottle-blond in a tight black pencil skirt who’d come out of the Mercedes dealership lighting a cigarette. 

With obvious effort, I wrangled the dog and the pram over towards the grass so it would only be the pram on the footpath giving her plenty of room to pass.

Watching my effort ,she drew on her cigarette slowly and swayed like a catwalk model coming straight for us. Was it my imagination or did she adjust her trajectory slightly in our direction? Obviously this was her runway.

I kept moving, surely she wouldn’t expect me to jump out of her way to the other side of the footpath, with my road train.

I think that was the whole point as I did eventually need to swerve out of the nasty cow’s way while she shot me a victorious sneer.

She was elevated in her platform stilettos but Buddy’s a Doberman cross - he’s quite leggy too and the sneer turned to something else as a big, black, wet, golf ball of a nose jabbed her square in the crotch. 

Even better, as she squealed and spun away from Bud, I saw the lovely large dog-snot smudge across her skirt.. Like chalk on a black-board.  Like a big long smear of ...something else entirely.  

Let her explain that to her colleagues. 

He doesn't often get it so right, Good Dog!