A really big dalmatian.

After a wonderful day of wondering I sat and watched the people come and go on the ring-bahn. I watched this encounter with a smile, but, understanding few of the actual words exchanged, I have related it as I imagined it may happen in England.

A man and a woman meet on a train. The man has a giant dalmatian with red soggy eyes which lies across the aisle juggling its’ jowls. The woman enters the carriage two stops after the man, though she has been on this train since the morning; up and down four times already half-heartedly selling her magazines.

She gives her speech in a voice resigned to the deaf eyes of commuters and tourists then sits down without checking if anyone is interested. They are not.  She is wearing a dress which feathers out beneath her coat and it flutters attractively as she pats her foot, not impatiently, to the sound of the rails.

She seems at home and now, unburdened of her purpose, she looks around at her fellow passengers as a regular may observe new clientele at a bar.

The dog, which is now at her feet, raises its bigger than human head to look at her across her knees and dribbles.

She laughs unfazed as slobber drips to her shoes.

‘Your dog likes my legs.’ She giggles.

The man, who – despite his shaven head and black attire – is listening to Franz Ferdinand, removes his headphones.

‘Sorry. Is he, bothering you?’ After a pause he adds ‘My dog, I mean.’

‘Nah!’ She laughs, but doesn’t repeat her joke.

‘He’s a big ‘un! Must be a right handful!’ She continues.

‘Aye, you got that right. Lazy as hell as well.’ He is slightly surprised by his rhyme and looks down at the dog, ruffling its short fur.

‘Eat like lion though does he?’ She bends down and wiggles her nose at the beast.

‘Sorry?’ He is momentarily distracted by her twitching nose. ‘Oh, yeah. He could keep Maccy D’s in business with the amount he gets through!’

She laughs again, tilting and shaking her head at the animal.

‘Oh shit.’ He notices the dribble still swaying from the dogs mouth and takes a packet of lavender kleenex from his pocket to dab it away. His eyes dart quickly to her legs then wince back as he notices the unmistakable baubles of canine spit on her shoes. His hand pauses for a minute, drawn to this meeting of  attractive stranger and a saliva he almost sees as his own, then snatches back to stow the kleenex back in his leather pocket.

She watches him, seeing only his affection for his dog. She smiles at the ugly thing. Unnecessarily big, incapable, lazy and probably greedy, but loved.

She looks out of the window for the first time in  years and feels her face glow in the afternoon sun.

Then the train eases itself into the next station and she jumps up, her skirt tickling the dogs brow.

She nods at the man. ‘See ya.’

He smiles back, ‘yeah…’

His eyes flicker to her magazines. They both look down and her face glows again as she weaves into the next carriage.

The man pats his dog roughly and watches the city go by for three stops before replacing Franz Ferdinand to his not so deaf ears.

‘