Cold, Cold Morning

I’m taking the dogs for a walk, and it is freezing. Speaking to Mark a day, or so, ago he said there was an Arctic blast on its way, well it’s here.

Speaking to Mark we laughed about our ailments. How old are we? Mark joked.

We meet a baby staffy. Its owner pulls it away from Otto when Otto bounces over to him, but his owner quite happy when I tell him that Otto is just playful. 

"He's still a big puppy."

"So is he," the dogs owner says.

The dogs sniff where dogs usually sniff.

We meet a cute man outside the café who is waiting for coffee, he pats both the dogs. I wouldn’t of minded a pat too.

We meet a nice couple who laugh and encourage Brun to get walking on this cold, cold day.

"He was asleep in his bed 5 minutes ago," I say.

"Oh, poor baby," the girl of the couple says. "It'll be okay."

A bit further up there’s a socially challenged guy on the other side of the road who I presume is yelling out to me from across the road as I clean up the dog shit, but I ignore him. Usually, I’ll talk to anyone but when I’m cleaning up dog shit, I don’t need to speak to anyone. 

Then we head to Brunswick Street. I’ve got a jacket on for the walk which is unheard of. Anyway.

A guy comes walking towards me in tiny shorts, and great muscular legs, and a t-shirt. I, actually, shiver at the sight of him.

The sun has come out as we walk down Brunswick Street, it is lovely and warm like heated honey.

Johnston Street is bathed in sunshine. Otto strides ahead, I think the sunshine has warmed him up.

The smell of coffee from one of the cafes is enough of a hit to spur me on to home.

And we're home in no time, walk done.