A face with a name.....

A Quebec-er encounter:

A couple times a week or more I see what I presume is a homeless man and his dog. When I leave for a long period of time I find myself looking for them when I return. Today, he and his dog were walking down my street. I took this opportunity to speak to him since his dog, the size of Snuffaluffagus, was check'en out Sam in a "you wanna be my peep kind of way". Once again, I started with a bit of confidence explaining that I speak French a little, in French. He replied that we can speak English...in English. (This is where the camera turns back to me and I make an of course you can speak English look.)
(Inside thought) What do I say now?... (Out loud) "He is huge, what kind of dog?"
Perhaps homeless man,"he isn't a kind, he's a bastard"......
Me in an awkwardly high pitch voice, "Oh! What kind do you thing?" (Here is where I realize that Barbara WaWa makes interviewing look easy.)
He looks at me like "I don't give a ^*%$".

His big, smelly dog is now checking me out....I tuck my tail under. I learn the dogs name and then they both tire of me and my amateur conversational skills. (This normally isn't a problem.) They tromp away, walking in the same direction as before...heading no where or some where?

So, is he homeless? I don't know. There isn't evidence of unhappiness. I always think I can help, but what would I be helping. Maybe he is always present when I need help. A gentle (and a little stinky) reminder. ? ? ?


Sam the dog update: We slept in....ahhhhh. Then we went for a walk, then we went for another walk, then we went to the dog park. We were alone at the dog park. A desolate dog park is one sad sight. The new blanket of snow did however cover the doggy poo, which always makes me gag a little. Sam has taught me how to throw and fetch, what a smart dog. Great she can speak French and teach me tricks.