Last night Jamie and I walked over to a small taqueria down the street to eat dinner on their patio. We brought our dog, Jayber. Shortly after we sat down, a group of about 10 bikers came in. Big and loud. We gave them our table and moved over to the other side of the patio. They all had on their sleeveless leather biker jackets with the patches on the back. One woman had on the back of her jacket in large letters: “Property of Meat Man.” I had on a baby blue Patagonia swimsuit, a t-shirt, and flip flops.
One especially large man, possibly Meat Man, himself, looked at Jayber, looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Poodle?”
I responded quietly, “Well, he’s a golden”— my voice dropped to barely audible—“doodle. A golden doodle.”
I looked down. He walked away.