Mike. The ever annoyed, ever impatient Mike – looking at me with an expression along the lines of “…would you move already?”
Well, sorry Mike, I am not a greyhound, in case you missed that part. You know, we are structurally different. But you don’t know. And obviously you don’t care.
Once he adjusts to my turtle-paced walking, Mike stays content and polite, never pulling on the leash. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s happy. Absolutely not. He dislikes being walked by anything slower than a racehorse. But he tolerates it. And he makes it very clear that his tolerance (and a bit of contempt) comes purely from the goodness of his heart, and that I should feel grateful for it.
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