Dog takes her second urban walk around a cemetery. We let her run off the lead. Her larkish scrabblings over marble and chippings clatter incongruously as we stroll down these crowded avenues of the dead. For a moment, she pauses thoughtfully, which is my cue to fish a poo bag from my pocket. After that, the lead is reclipped. Dog does not mind.
For her first walk, we had a whole park to roam; she ran circles of discovery with her nose to the ground, inhaling information. After the park we clipped down the road, past the lady in the fit-flops pushing a trolley of cakes out of Aldi’s automatic doors. We spent some pleasant if damp time kicking about outside the building full of nervous red belts, who were inside kicking each other fervently for a chance to become black belts. Dog gives them a wag as they emerge, shiny faced and tense with hope. She is popular, which she likes.