She had a delightful brogue.
With her pedigree, it figured. I was outclassed, and I knew it. What could she see in a mutt like me? Hell, I was barely housebroken.
"My nose is cold," she said. "Let's get a doggie bag and get out of here. I could use a walk."
I helped her into her coat, and when we got to my place I helped her back out of it. Before I knew it, she was sitting in my lap. If I could just get her to stay awhile, maybe my hopes for an evening of heavy petting would not be scotched.
ShoeStories™ by Claudia Lynch