A white and black spaniel type
on her owner’s leash, prances
down the hill from the big houses
neighborhood toward Tobey and I.
Is your dog friendly... should we
cross over to say hello. He’s
had a couple of seizures, the put-off
response from the leggy blonde.
Tobey and I walk on by on the other side
like the Samaritan story priest, except that
these want us to pass. Not purebred enough.
Not having seizures either.
I think I sense a pattern.