Walking Pocky Through the Pet Fair

Pet fairs make me a bit sentimental. Pocky is four now, a mixed breed with one ear that refuses to stand up, and when we walked into the hall in Bang Phli on Sunday he stopped at the door like he was taking it all in. There were rows of dog toys, tiny bowls, and a man selling hamsters in cardboard boxes.

I bought him a rubber ring and nothing else, because I didn't want to carry a bag around all day. Sitting on the bench afterwards with a warm can of coffee, I thought about how much of his life is just this: walking, sniffing, and coming home with me.