Sometimes you see something so delightful it just leaves you standing there with a silly smile on your face.
As I was taking Mamie for a walk this morning, from around one of the garages came a man in his 30s, running full-tilt, an unusual sight in this complex of mostly over-55s.
Yet what really caught my attention was his entourage, because galloping along the sidewalk in his wake were not one, not two, but three tiny Yorkshire terriers, each about the size of my fist, running for all they were worth. None were on leashes, but they were in their miniature pack, speeding along as a cohesive unit.
Mamie and I stepped back and he raced by. There was a brief lull as all three teensy dogs circled around my dog, who, at 12 pounds now looked like a giant. Without pausing, the runner whistled, and then one, two, and finally three (after one more friendly sniff) all dashed off into the distance after their leader.