Park-ing Violation

"He's not mine. Really; I've never set eyes on him before," I blurted.

The two women raised their eyebrows and pulled in their chins, before harumphing under their breath to convey that I was blatantly lying.

Admittedly, the terrier was now making love to my left leg (rather loudly and passionately), but this did not mean that I owned him. In fact, it was pretty insulting for these little old ladies to assume that I would choose to own a dirty, brown, rat-sized dog, with indeterminable parentage. I was sure I looked more like a wolf-hound owner - all rustic pines and women dripping from me.

"Ok. Ok." I gave in to their disappointed stares, whilse the happy terrier gave me a post-coital sniff.

I dropped my paper (unread) over the dog's unembarrassed weekend meal and proceeded to try not to look directly at what my hand was doing. I hurried to the bin before I had to take another breath.

Rather proud that I could of survived the Posiden Adventure, I turned to appease the ladies, who were already leaving... with a dirty, brown, rat-sized dog following them companionably.

"Hey," I whined, feeling strangely violated.

"He's not my dog." The meanest one said.

"Hurry up, Rover." Chided the other.

(214wds)