As Heidi and I walked down the street, young university girls stopped to swoon over our Miniature Dachshund, playing with her ears and cooing, missing the dogs they grew up with and left home with their parents when they embarked for school.
On Bloor we popped into a store that sold trendy, high-end environmentally friendly products. The woman who ran the place very earnestly, very respectfully asked me if if Heidi was allowed to have a treat. It was almost a political question. She went on to explain that the treat was organic and 100% certified by a variety of organizations, and this recitation of virtue made me laugh as the truth was that for all I knew Heidi had just eaten three lollipops and and seven rotting chicken wings off the street. Behind the counter shone a young Middle Eastern girl who looked like a boy. She glittered in her favourite new blue sweater, the one that mysteriously brought forth her eyes, smiling as the dog gobbled her treat.
In the By The Way Cafe a lunch meeting was taking place at the front window table. Eight people, all with papers in front of them, all middle-aged and bored, sat in various postures of defiance. Some had their arms folded over their chest, others leaned back and two absently flipped through the reading material. They all looked tired and a little worn, as if they had other things they wanted to do with their lunch hour. As we passed by, one woman’s gaze slowly came into focus on Heidi trotting down the street, and a small, almost imaginary smile began to animate her face as talk of sales projections fuzzed out.
At Outer Layer, a young man who was trying to grow some facial hair in order to look older, more professional, was attempting to sell the cashier on a new bank card system. He was dressed like a restaurant manager, I thought, wearing inexpensive black clothes, just slightly frayed at the edges, and a father’s tie, in the hope that he could pull-off business sharp. His shoes looked Orthopedic, like he might have painted them black, and he used dramatic language in making his pitch, but the hipster cashier had tuned him out the minute she saw him, and when he told her to “prepare to have you mind blown”, the other girl, the one eating the muffin, began to snicker. He went on a little bit longer before being politely rejected, and then with a sigh he left, those beautiful young women and the sale he needed to make all the difference, remaining out of his reach.