Must Love Dogs
It is no secret that Paula and I love dogs. Anyone who has spent even a few minutes around us knows this to be true. Our hunger for K9 interaction, however, could…. could… sometimes, be interpreted as the equivalent of a creepy guy in a van handing out candy. Each of us typically carries a small milkbone (or two) in our jacket pocket in case we run across a pooch on our explorations. Usually, once folks are over the shock of two strangers enticing their pet with treats, a window for conversation opens. This has led to several new friendships with both dogs and their people alike – Dodger/Tom & Jenny, Winston/Tom & Caroline, Clarence/David, Francy/Deb. Had we not stopped to harass their dog, it is unlikely we would have struck up a conversation, instead preferring to pass silently while mentally critiquing their boat name, foulie choice or some other such nonsense. So, at least until the police are notified or restraining orders are in place, we will continue to walk the docks, milkbones secretly ferreted away somewhere in our clothing, awaiting our next chance to meet a new dog. Oh, and his people.
Below, is Francy. She owns Deb, who gave us a great tour of her classical fish buying scow.