Pet massage

Charley and I are in the elevator going for his night walk. A man enters. Charley goes over for the obligatory ankle sniffing.

“Cute dog.”

“Thanks. Say hi, Charley.” Pup obediently looks up and wags his tail.

Man smiles, and considers the dog for a moment, in that way people do when they prepare to knowledgeably declare your dog’s breed to you.

“That’s not a shiatsu, is it?”