"My sister breeds those ugly dogs, what are they called-"
"Pugs?" I offered. Sure enough, her sister breeds pugs.
This tiny old woman had stopped me on the street to compliment my own non-ugly dog, Elmer, the Bedlington Terrier who has taken the Upper East Side by storm.
"You never see these anymore!" is the refrain from many of my elderly neighbors. Of course, Elmer is happy to say hello and demonstrate what an angel he is for all his admirers. The best part about how many people he stops on the street, though, is what great people-watching I get in as a result.
The full conversation with the woman who hates pugs went something like this-
"Oh, what a sweet dog! My dog is a [breed I didn't recognize], he's terrible. I took him to a doggy daycare once and when I came to pick him up, they said, "Please don't ever bring this dog here again!""
"Oh, no!"
"He lives with my son now. He got kicked out of my building because he bit my neighbor's dog."
"Oh no!"
"Yeah, but you know, my sister breeds those ugly dogs- what are they called?"
"Pugs?"
"Yes, pugs. She breeds pugs and usually they're all fine but every now and then there's one that's just... off. And there's nothing you can do, because, well, evil is evil."
"Right, yes."
"But anyway, your dog isn't evil, he's very sweet! Enjoy!"
Evil is evil. Incredible. I wonder if that willingness to share bizarre details about your life is unique to older generations, or if we just have a higher tolerance for someone telling us a bananas story if they're old and maybe can't help themselves. Either way, I'm taking note, and cannot wait to hear more.
-Helen
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