The floofiest dog I've ever seen (imagine Bob Ross's halo of curls given four legs and a rambunctious personality) catches sight of me on the shoe floor, and we lock eyes, sharing a moment as you do with a random dog. He immediately stops to greet me, like a good boy, stopping his owner dead at the end of his leash as she heads toward the elevator.
But I'm the manager, so I can't inconvenience her, so in order not to impede her progress, I start walking too. The dog is totally on board with the addition to his traveling pack, and together we bound to the elevator, where his grateful owner offers me sheepish thanks while a confused dog watches as the doors close.
Post a Comment