I left the office yesterday to stretch my legs. There’s something inhuman about sitting in a desk chair all day long. The experts tell us that sitting for that length of time everyday is what makes us fat. So I shoved myself out the door and took a walk.
As soon as I came out of the building I saw a woman carrying a white, fluffy dog. She was across the street, and from where I stood the dog looked like a stuffed animal because he didn’t move. She carried him like a baby. I walked down the hill and she crossed the street and we met at the corner, where an exercise class at the Cardiobarre was happening. She stopped and showed him the class through the window. The dog, a Bichon Frise, sporting red shoes and matching coat, seemed quite happy being held and shown bodies bending in ballet routines at the bar.
“May I take your picture?” I asked as I approached her.
She stared me down a second and said, “No.”
That was a first. People on the whole are narcissists and usually say yes.
“That’s even better,” I said.
She placed the pooch in my arms, I gave her my phone and she clicked.
“Thank you,” I said handing back the warm and compliant beast.
“He’s a service dog, you know. He has 78 matching outfits for work,” she said.