For some reason, drunks flock to my french bulldog, Lulu, as if she were a kiosk dispensing wine samples at an all-night liquor store. If we’re out on a walk and there’s a drunk within staggering distance, guaranteed he’ll find his way to her, cooing, occasionally crying, invariably getting down on the ground the better to shower her with affection. Akemi is always horrified but, for her part, Lulu seems to really enjoy the attention, encouraging it by running through her routine of adorable antics including – but not limited to: the sit and stare, the stretch and yawn, the bat and bark, and, when all else fails, she’ll just crawl around on her stomach until someone notices. So it was today when, in the midst of a sidewalk conversation with Martin Gero, three inebriated fellows, obviously fresh from afternoon cocktails in the park, descended upon us. At first, I thought they were looking for spare change but it become instantly apparent that they weren’t interested in us. They only had eyes for Lulu. And, after some fifteen minutes of cuddles and cackles, they picked themselves up and continued on their winding way – much to Lulu’s disappointment.
In similar fashion, Jelly always seems to draw the attention of elderly ladies who will always take the time to stop, inquire as to why I’m carrying her (“Bad hips. Oh, I know what THAT’S like!”), and then offer her a pat and a few words of encouragement before heading off.
Maximus, bless his heart, is a magnet for cute Japanese girls. There’s just something about his rugged good looks and easy-going manner that has made him an irresistible to them ever since he was a puppy.
Sadly, the only thing Bubba attracts with any consistency is the amorous advances of much larger dogs.
And they freak him out.