Dr. So and So

Standing in line waiting for my order, Dr. So-and-So walks in. Not sure I have the right person, I wait to say anything until I hear the lady's greeting. I have my order, I'm walking out, and I ask Dr. So-and-So, "You know my schnauzer is home?" (My schnauzer's story of survival is epic. I'll share sometime.) Dr. S&S smiles, nice eyes, and nods, never says a word. You SO do not, I wanted to say. You don't even know who I am. What color is my schnauzer? Black or brown? Do I play and hike with my schnauzer? Go ahead, tell me what you know...

(I'd asked Dr. S&S to please let me know if any schnauzers were brought to the office, when Maggie Rose was missing.) 

I return to work, telling my colleague about standing in line. She starts laughing. She asks me if I then tell Dr. S&S, "My schnauzer, you know, my dog...Ruffff...Maggie Rose." No I didn't. We laugh, deep belly laugh, because we are fun. And silly. 

I'm always talking about my schnauzer, because well, I'm a proud owner. And not everyone thinks in euphemisms. Maybe I should be more careful, clarify.