Her dog

She was a Czech (someone had told me) living in America and had a very small dog, she took with her everywhere. The dog didn’t like people, but loved other dogs, especially bigger ones.
She always sat in the corner with her dog, and commented on the weather when she talked at all. Mostly to herself, when she did.
But as soon as another dog came into the cafe, she would get ebullient in meeting the owner, asking the breed and age, and health issues and coloring—dog talk. She was great at dog and weather talk.
This one afternoon, on a particularly hot day, her dog needed something she couldn’t figure out. Not thirst per se, but restless in a non other dog sort of way.
“What is it sweetie?” I heard her say out loud.
I had never heard her be affectionate unless talking about other dogs.
“Why do you hate people so much, they love you.” She went on.
“I’m going to introduce you to a real person today to prove it!”
So, they came over to my table, where I had my computers set up for on line art classes from Berlin.
“She wants to meet you.” She said.
Pulling myself out of art class, and my own world, I said, “What is her name?”
“We are not at that point yet.” The girl replied.
I petted her tiny white and brown small chow dog, and looked her right in the eyes. She nearly nipped me, but I moved slowly, with my hand beneath her mouth, until she felt at home, and less skittish. And then looking up at her owner asked-“It’s a bit hot today, and by the way, what is your name friend?”