Walking the Dog

I was walking down Walton Street this evening (a picturesque street of humble nineteenth century workingmen's cottages that, in a strange twist of fate, now cost over a half million dollars), and I ran into a mother taking a stroll with her daughter and her son. They were carrying a carefully wrapped basket of baked goods -- and they asked me if they could give my dog a treat. The mother explained that her daughter wanted to get a dog, so they cooked up some special dog treats and were walking around giving them to all the dogs they met (I don't 100% understand the logic). Morgan was the eleventh dog they had ran into; eight had liked the treats and two hadn't. Initially, it looked like Morgan was going to be the third non-liker because she was hiding behind my legs, trying to get away from the strangers. But when the daughter gave up and I handed her the treat, Morgan gulped it down like a champ. Here she is looking happy after her unexpected treat: