She Doesn't Know

I saw Mrs S today, out walking the dogs. She's the one who told me how Tasi Drive got its name: it's what she and her husband used to call their dog, short for Tassle, part of her kennel name. As theirs was the first house on the street, and none of the other residents minded, they changed it to Tasi.

As I was heading back out I saw Mrs S had stopped to chat with a neighbor, so I pulled over and got out my little bag of dog biscuits, giving one to each dog. The little long-haired dachshund I'd seen before happily took the biscuit from my fingers, but the other dog, a black-and-white Pomeranian, just looked at it. Mrs. S said, "Oh, she's a rescue dog; we just got her Friday. She doesn't know what treats are."

Christ. I put the biscuit down and half-turned away, and she came over and took it off the ground, chewed it slowly. Mrs. S and the neighbor continued chatting and I drove on.