SHE KNEW DOGS

We were in a parking lot when a woman stopped near us and stared at Shamrock.

She pointed at him with complete confidence and said,

“That’s a long-haired Great Dane.

There is, of course,

no such thing

as a long-haired Great Dane.

But she said it the way people say

things when they believe them deeply.

I told her he was an Irish Wolfhound.

She did not accept this information.

She repeated,

“No, he’s a long-haired Great Dane. I know dogs.”

At her feet were two dogs I immediately

recognized as curly-coated retrievers.

So I smiled politely and said,

“Oh! And yours are some kind of doodle mix, right?

Cute!”

She went quiet.

Like… unplugged quiet.

There was a pause where reality had to reboot.

She looked at her dogs.

She looked at Shamrock.

She did not say another word.

She tried. Her mouth opened and just an odd squeak came out.

And that was the end of our conversation.

Shamrock stood there the whole time,

enormous and calm, a creature too old and too

real to be bothered by invented breeds.