It was the middle of summer and I was walking a French bulldog whose history was unknown to me. We were walking with a pack of humans and dogs and Frenchie was angry about everything. I thought I heard him mutter “Losers” as he wandered off ahead. When I couldn’t find him I had to involve ‘park administrators’ to assist in the search.

When I arrived home he was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing glasses and reading a magazine.