Bruno and the Little Girl

Bruno has no problem making himself comfortable anywhere he is

I was sitting outside the small supermarket, perched on the window ledge with the rest of the shopping, and Bruno, next to me, as Sam shopped.

The sun had been lovely as we walked along the Yarra earlier, Kookaburras laughed and magpies sang, but I was starting to feel the cool breeze sitting there in my shorts just out of the sun.

It was very quiet, Sunday of a long weekend, and we’d had trouble buying food for lunch. When I suggested we have tuna on toast when we got home, Sam soon found a Vietnamese restaurant that had outside tables to accommodate Bruno, as food was so much more important to him than tuna on toast for lunch.

A young girl, maybe 5, or 6, I’m not so good with kid’s ages, sitting on the door step to the small supermarket kept looking Bruno. She was clearly fascinated with him. You can tell these things pretty easily.

“You can pat him, if you want,” I say. 

She hops right down and cuddles up to him. “Is he friendly?” she asks quietly.

“Oh yes,” I say. And she pushes her face up against Bruno’s face. “He might lick you,” I say

“That’s okay,” she says. “I have a dog of my own.” She uses that confidant tone children use with adults, in other words, I know what I am doing.

She snuggles her face right up to Bruno’s face. She presses her mouth against his mouth. He sniffs her gently. And she kisses him. He rubs his face against hers, and kisses her back. It is the secret language of children and dogs right there in front of me.

Her father is standing on the footpath on the other side of the shop doorway with her brother. He puts a lot of trust in a dog he doesn’t know with his pretty daughter, I think. It was refreshing to see parents who don’t parent with hysteria, which is so often the case with parents of today.