January 13, 2024:
Friendly doggy. Ageing bulldog, white, small, tongue lolling with either thirst or age. Trots ahead of his human, coming to me to say hello. "Making new friends," says his human, also elderly, as she arrives a few moments later. I smile big, pet the friendly doggy, continue on without speaking.
Groundskeeping. My age, elderly: very thin. Leaning, full weight, what there is of it, pushing with impossible effort an impossibly heavy two-handled commercial gas mower a foot or two at a time.
Middle-aged dad with ginormous bulldog, coming toward me on the sidewalk. Pulls him aside, onto the grass, up to a tree, away from me. All things considered that might be just as well.