Well, I don’t know if it was the British accent or the bad hair, but apparently something marked me out this morning as a person in need of a dog.
I was chatting (about nothing remotely related to pets) to a lady I’ve met only once before, when she offered to lend me her dog. So that’s good, I guess? I must look trustworthy, like the sort of person you meet in the street and think, yes, she could totally take care of my beloved pet. She doesn’t look the type to harness a dog to a skateboard and get it to pull her along. Ahem.
Or maybe she thought a sensible tweed skirt covered in labrador hair would be the ideal ensemble to match my crazy coiffure and English enunciation. Could be worse. At least no-one’s marked me down as the eccentric cat lady. Yet.