I end this post with this photo of the ‘tramp’ and his dog.
Our good friend in Sydney likes to bust in and out of discount appliance shops and she insisted we pop in and out of this and that shop. The weather was so good it contained the smells of all them sad, wretched electronics and second life Omega watches and autographed Michael Jackson (maybe not MJ but a famous guy) toy and so many things all part of our consumerist gut and bleeding hearts. One shop was the above. I could not tear my eyes from the little dog. He kept scratching and scratching, and the whole time he was scratching he was pulling and writhing his little body away from the guy. His pull was greater than his big scratch; he pulled with all his youth. I put my hands down to let him sniff me and then I caught the eyes of the tramp. Who may not be a tramp I realized but was so loving and at ease he could be.
I was so confused I blasted out of the store into the fresh world.
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