Dog sitting this weekend, so spending a lot of hours on Canine Standard Time.
Walking Molly and Blue, we passed Mormon missionaries talking to a homeowner. I think: “Not interested in talking to any kind of missionaries while trying to control all this dog flesh.”
Suddenly the missionaries are right beside us. One asks: “Can I pet your dog?” Sounding dubious, I say “I suppose so.” The other asks: “What kind of dog is that?” I say, “I don’t know, I’m just a dog sitter. A wire-haired setter, or something.”
I’m acting like I don’t even know the dogs, or how they’ll react to strangers. Slow to arouse, but still on cue, Molly starts barking at them, and Blue growls. The missionaries prudently backed away. And so, we headed off to more canine-friendly fun.
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