I was walking along the street with my mum one day a couple of years ago, both of us with our faithful hounds by our side, when a man stopped in front of us and cooed at my mum’s dog.
“Look at you!” he said. “Aren’t you beautiful?”
My mother’s pooch looked at him expressionlessly. She’s used to these types of compliments. They come her way all the time. Meanwhile, my little dog pattered towards the bloke hopefully, wagging her tail and looking for some praise of her own.
He glanced at her. “And you’re okay,” he said.
‘Okay’, sir? Just ‘okay’? I was silently seething. My dog is the most precious and perfect four-legged, fur-covered creature to ever walk this Earth. How dare he reduce her to a mere ‘okay’?
