Today Isis meets two entire males (dogs, that is) and finds them most interesting. In the morning it’s the handsome Sharu, in the evening, lovely Max.
Max, in fact, turns up trumps. When Isis is several minutes into a refusal lie-down, his owner says, “Walk with her, Max,” Max approaches the resistant one and touches her nose gently. The little b. gets up and walks alongside him.
I must anoint myself with entire-male perfume.
Fellow dog walkers are still suggesting new names for the Hairy One.
I discard ‘Spices’. It doesn’t seem her. I decide to wait until the right name just comes to me.
Groups of park acquaintances say, “Lovely to see you back in the park.” and “Good you have a dog again.”
It is good to be back in the park. But there are lots of scary things here for Isis.
I miss walking round with the Dog Mob and have to keep reminding myself that the walk is for Isis, not me.
“Poor little dog, she’s barely been here a week,” says my wise friend. “you expect too much.”