In what ways do you communicate online?
Mainly to share useless dross. Nothing constructive or admirable.
Dog people, however, get to do THIS kind of thing (below). Social media has informed me that there is a Sausage Dog Meet-Up scheduled for Saturday 11th February.

It will be taking place in a park close by (not the one over the road, although that would have allowed me to observe from a window, giggling to myself, without even leaving the house), in honour of Daisy’s first birthday. And it has been created by a group called the London Lowriders; I have no idea who they are, but they sound like some sort of south supremacist gang.
Daisy is, apparently, is a therapy dog. It sounds as if she has done a great deal in just one year, whereas Louis Catorze has been on the planet for almost FOURTEEN TIMES THAT LONG and has achieved the square root of bugger all.
The last time I checked, there were eleven guests confirmed and one hundred and two interested. No doubt by the time the event takes place, more will have signed up. However, posting the event on a public setting has the potential to go a bit Project X*, non? What if two hundred sausage dogs turn up? Or two thousand?
*Older followers: ask your kids/nieces/nephews who are in their early twenties.
You’d be forgiven for thinking that there couldn’t possibly be that many sausage dogs living in the area, this is Richmond, sweetie. Sausage dogs are quite the upper-middle class accessory, just like Breton tops and jauntily-coloured wool blazers.
If you have a dog, and you happen to be passing through TW10 on Saturday 11th February, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be turned away if you dropped into the event even if your dog isn’t a sausage dog. Dog people are like The Mob: they stick together.
And if you have a Chat Noir, meet me and Catorze in the cemetery on Hallowe’en night. Which cemetery? Just follow the sound of the screaming.

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