A cacking good laugh

Last night I went out for a drink with a lass from a dating website. She's a clothes designer, from New Jersey initially, but now living in Manhattan.

Why am I telling you this? Because she brought her dog along. New Yorkers are mad on dogs. Bonkers-mad. Dog perfume, dog booties, dog restaurant mad.

Now, there's nowhere for the dogs to run around - Manhattan's got no greenery apart from Central Park. The solution? Get tiny dogs.

Her dog was a little chihuahua, like this little fella
. Who, once at the bar, behaved impeccably and was given a nice bowl of water to drink. However... having only just met, as we walking to the bar, the little scamp decided to curl one up on the pavement!

Being British and a prude, I was rather embarrassed for the girl - having just met someone and the next minute standing there with your dog straining out poop onto the floor. However, she was totally unfazed. She looked down (quite a way too - she's 6'1" and the dog's about 10 inches) with thinly veiled mock disgust and searched for a dog-shit-bag-container-thing.

But no, she'd forgotten her shit-bags (or whatever they're called). Fazed now, surely? No. She simply got out an envelope she had, scooped up said cack and popped it in the bin. Cool as you like. I was impressed. And slightly gobsmacked.

THEN, as we were crossing an avenue (i.e. big busy road) the tiny pooch tried to bust another one out! This time it was not so easy as the lights were changing so he got dragged, still pooping, to the pavement. Once safe on the pavement Sonia (the lass) turned to go clean up but the traffic was all over that shit... literally. And vice versa quite probably. So, she admitted defeat and we moved swiftly on.

All in all, an amusing, "only in New York" evening.