Not many moutains round here

This morning there was something big on my train. People stared, laughed, pointed, went wide eyed, some got off and tried another carriage to get away from it. I, however, running through the ticket gates as the train doors opened, saw this massive, huge great big thing get on, grinned and thought 'Now that's a carriage I need to be in' and hopped on after it.

"Hello Rufus!"

Rufus stared back at my manic, grinning face. The man with him said 'Ahh, we've seen you before, haven't we?' and I confirmed that yes, we had met before at Baker Street the previous week when I was waiting for the train, and no, I wasn't just some manic nutter with a penchant for random morning conversation. I turned my attention back to Rufus, who was looking particularly big and hairy today, although surprisingly dry, considering the rain.

As the train moved away, packed as usual, all eyes rested on the thing at our feet taking up most of the room. Some questions were asked, like "Is he going to get any bigger?", but most people just stared, waiting to see what he would do; surely being that size on such a cramped carriage, he's bound to kick off.

But no, Rufus just lay down, resting his head on some unsuspecting commuter's shoes, curled around the legs of another, closed his eyes and slept. Part of me considered if it would be appropriate to get down there with him, he seemed to have the right idea, but I made do with standing over him for the whole journey, just grinning at his massive face.



No doubt some people in the carriage were quite relieved when his owner started feeding him treats at every stop, thus keeping hunger at bay and minimising the chances of being Pyrenean mountain dog breakfast. But I like it. I love big dogs. I love them even more when they're doing something unusual, like wearing a hat, santa costume, glasses, dancing, or commuting to work. He goes into work like this every morning, and comes home in the rush hour too, big, imposing (at least a metre long lying down), white, fluffy and utterly harmless.

Pretty sure I was the only one who tried to engage him in conversation, though.