Today the very fat old Labrador who lives at the corner of our road was out in the garden with his mum, who was trimming the grass, and he waddled over for a cuddle and I rubbed his rump over the wall and he was very nice and happy and moulty (because the weather has all of a sudden remembered it's July for a couple of days) and in conclusion I stroked a dog. Further along the way to the tram station I saw another dog, a small lightly-built spaniel, black with white (KCS I think?).

Yesterday morning I met a different dog (English Springer Spaniel? I'm not good on breeds, you can probably tell) outside a chippy and it sniffed my hand for some considerable time and didn't really want a stroke, and I felt like a traitor to dogkind, because I know what I smelled of.

(Guess what I want! Go on, guess!)