Walking Velma
Walnut Creek, California
“Look at the little dog!” a girl squealed from across the street. “She’s got rain boots!” I smiled and waved. Yes, Velma had her own rain boots, her own raincoat, both of which matched the leash I was holding and the bow in her hair. I would never have put clothes on any animal I owned, but Velma wasn’t my dog. I’d just offered to walk her this morning when my neighbor’s fibromyalgia flared up.
“She’s adorable!” the little girl’s mother called to me.
Velma adorable. A real sweetie. A shih tzu mix who weighed no more than five pounds, she I’d thought, thinking of my low-maintenance cats sleeping in my apartment.
