Somewhere on Alexandru cel Bun, an old lady is walking on a leash a dog that looks as old as she is. The lady is coquettish, with a thick turban on her head, glasses on the tip of her nose, and a bag.
The dog with the blue hair, no blue blood, and no impressions. A retired stray. He smiles at her, and waits for her. They both walk at a walk, going absolutely nowhere. They don't have all the time in the world, but they seem to have had each other forever.
The old woman leans on the cane from time to time. He looks at her, seems to know how long the pain is holding her, and waits. Three steps later, the puppy stops twice, and takes a short poop on the sidewalk. The old woman stops, for it is his turn to wait. She takes a newspaper out of her bag, and wipes the mess away. They continue on their way together. At a walk. A step learned in a human life, and in a dog's life. A life lived beautifully, and grown old as well. Kiss my hand, lady!
A story born from a glance. And told from a thought. And lived during the pandemic.