I was walking up Brunswick Street yesterday with Bruno (well, you can't spend your whole day behind your laptop collecting vintage B&W images avoiding all your responsibilities in life) when I heard panting and snuffling and maybe some scratching behind me, and I turned around to see a girl with, what I would call, a Miniature Pincer, in a pink tutu, desperately pulling on her lead towards us.
“Pricilla is desperate to say hello to your boy,” said the girl holding the lead. “I think she’s in love.”
At which point Bruno stepped towards Pricilla gave her a the most fleeting sniff, and charged off in the opposite direction.
Pricilla, literally, looked at her owner, looked in the direction in which Bruno was rapidly disappearing, and looked back at her owner.
“Nah, I think he’s done babe,” said the girl. “Just like a man.”
Both Pricilla and her owner honestly looked disappointed. Bruno couldn’t have given a shit.
I didn’t really know what to say, but it didn’t matter as Bruno tugged on the lead and spun me around, and Pricilla and her owner walked off losers in love.
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