At the crossing
The crowd flowed around us like water around a stone. My Italian Greyhound stood beside me in a blue sweater, unnoticed until one ear lifted. A woman with a bicycle smiled as if she had found a familiar face in an unfamiliar neighbourhood.
A question
“Is that an Italian Greyhound?” she asked. I nodded. We did not recite breed history. We stood together until the light changed. Sometimes an introduction begins less with an answer than with someone finally noticing a small dog.
A blue dot in a busy day
A week later we met the woman with the bicycle again. She stopped a little farther away and asked whether she could say hello. The dog approached on her own, investigated the air and returned to me. The introduction took less than a minute and required no lifting.
I noticed other dogs I used to pass without seeing: beneath a shop bench, beside someone at a bus stop, in a ground-floor window. The city had not changed. My attention had.
At home the Italian Greyhound curled in the sofa corner and became almost invisible again. Before sitting, I checked the blanket folds, found the long nose and left it more room.
There is a small practical suggestion inside this fictional scene: ask the owner first and let the dog choose contact. At home, remember that someone may be sleeping beneath a blanket even when you cannot see them from the doorway.
Useful? Save it for your next walk.