|This angle makes her butt look big.|
This is Tiny Dog, waiting at the bank window for her cookie. We are one row over, where the tube shoots the money back at you, and the teller cannot see I have a dog in car, though Tiny Dog waits and waits and waits, hopeful.
Thankfully, I keep spares in the glove compartment, since most drive thru cookies are too big for all at once, for such a small mouth with most rear teeth extracted over the years.
Tiny Dog is also fond of the coffee drive-thru and Taco Bell (oh I cannot help it, this fast food failing). Last month, she charmed the cashier at TB, so that he gave us a whole, steamed flour tortilla, just for her, that was large enough that I could’ve wrapped her in it. Boy!, how she wanted me just to drop that entire tortilla in her lap.
On Friday we went through the drive-up up window of the dry cleaner, and she stood there, perplexed. The build emitted no food smells, there were no treats in the vicinity, and the staff member did not acknowledge the mini mammal’s presence. It made no sense to her, I could tell, and she went back the passenger seat with a little sigh.
Most of the time Tiny Dog is a small ambassador of joy. The barista leans in to tell me about her five pound Yorkie cross and how naughty the critter is. The Taco Bell guy yells to the back of the kitchen, Come look at this little dog! And get me a tortilla! And the bank teller talks directly to Tiny Dog with a hello, how are you today?