Lomax welcomed our guests with his typical enthusiasm, and Joanna and I spent a good hour or so letting the lads get acquainted before taking a leisurely lunch at Chipotle. Some of us were more leisurely than others:
But I suppose if I were allowed to stretch out on the cool stone floor under the table, I'd be napping too.
We of course made a stop for ice cream, where we encountered a...colorful...woman who, by the end of our reluctant conversation, had three strikes against her:
1.) she pulled up a chair and invited herself to join us, also inviting herself to pet the dogs without asking
2.) she thought I was Joanna's mother, which -- though flattering in that Joanna is smart and pretty and talented -- was either a horrifying commentary on how I looked today or simply a presumptuous take on the kind of person I was at age fifteen, and
3.) she gleefully stated that she has a fake service dog jacket for her own pet dog so she can take it out in public.
I know. It makes me mad, too. Such people and their ill-behaved, I-can-eat-french-fries-off-the-table-because-I'm-wearing-a-pretty-vest FOOFYmonsters are the reason legitimate service dogs in training get hassled all the time. The only reason I didn't ream her is that we are, especially with our dogs in jacket, representatives of GDA. Grrrrr.
Anyway, after that we headed back for more playtime in the air-conditioned apartment, where Chandler was bold and Lomax was tolerant. Tiny teeth met with face, and leg, and tail, but the boys played together well for the most part, until energy levels got out of hand and they both had to calm down.
Here, for your enjoyment, are the mighty snake killers at work:
It was a fun afternoon, and Lomax is fairly wiped out this evening from all the restraint he had to show! Thank you, Joanna, for bringing Chandler out today and hanging with me and the little man...I'm almost certain I noticed Lomax imparting some snorts of doggy wisdom in his ear when they were tussling.