Puppy lovers with bad fashion sense finally let the raindrops declare victory. These same raindrops are heading my way. I have yet to broadcast my intentions — more inclined to leave due to the girl sitting across from me babbling about how much she loves Paris than by any amount of creeping precipitation.
Another girl sits in front of me with two pugs who apparently aren’t pugs – some kind of poodle or something (I failed to fully overhear her explanation to the retired nurse who inquired about them). She stands her ground as well.
One of the non-pugs is called Hudson. She has not said the name of the other, but I would give her anything she could ever desire if the other one was called Ernie.