20 August 2016

Rosco, officially

Officially met Rosco, the big black dog who lives at the top of the street. He pulled at his leash and his owner said he wanted to meet us. She asked if it was OK first and assured us he was friendly before taking him off-leash. My companion had said, "Sure," before I'd had a chance to really think about it.

Nonetheless, I appreciate the owner's good etiquette having had some bad dog experiences in my past. Rosco is, in fact, very friendly though he had his nose so far under my crotch I thought he wanted to play tunnel tag. I assured him that, yes, he could bowl me over if he wanted too. Fortunately, that wasn't his goal.


Ran into Rosco again. He and his human were just finishing their evening walk. "He's gotta say, 'Hi,'" she said as he pulled on his leash towards me.

He walked over and gave me a low growl.

"It's OK, Roscoe, you know me," I said, holding out my hands in the dim light.

"It's OK," his person said, "He's just saying, 'Talk to me, not to her!'"

"Oh, OK," I laughed. Pet, pet, pet, pet, pet. Rosco rubbed his cheek against me. Now he's happy.

11 years ago on TTaT: Hamlet was my undoing: Part III

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