<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/5WGMhX4.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/IgjDnJr.jpg)</div><br/><br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong><strong>Sara McComb &amp; Pepe</strong><br/><br/><strong>Date:</strong>April 1, 2017<br/><strong>Time:</strong>late morning / early afternoon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Eugenia, Renee, Edward, Seren, Open<br/><strong>Summary:</strong>Moving Day<br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><em>“He’s not a mongrel, Ma’am.  He’s a registered French bulldog, and he was at the vet’s last week.  I can assure you that he doesn’t have any diseases, other than a compulsive need for affection.” </em>Sara adopted as patient a tone as she could manage, and calling on the experience gained in her job to dampen down any hasty negative thoughts.  Moving in was stressful for anyone, and someone as old as the<del>old bat</del>… lady … appeared to be was likely heavily resistant to change.  That would be enough to make anyone rather disagreeable.  Her reassurance did contain some exaggeration -- Pepe's vet visit was last month, rather than last week, but but maybe shaving off a few days would make her less worried about catching something, though she was not going to ask just what diseases she feared.<br/><br/>Sara re-doubled her efforts to make sure Pepe didn’t get free – she didn’t entirely trust anyone who referred to an adorable dog like hers as a ‘mongrel’ not to whack him with the cane.  That would not bode well for peaceful neighborly relations.  Pepe gave her a hurt look as she crossed an arm over his front and shoulder, but he did subside … a little.<br/><br/>With some gratitude, Sara turned to the dark haired younger woman, predisposed already to like her just for having to put up with her disagreeable – at least upon first impression – companion.  Her smile broadened.<em>“Thank you.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.  And you are?”</em><br/><br/>She was determinedly oblivious to no names being offered, by choice.  Sometimes people just needed a little prompting.<br/><br/>The arrival of a man and a young girl, and another dog, interrupted further conversation for the moment.  Mrs. Old Bat might have been glad of it, except that the leashed dog seemed as happy to meet new people and other dogs as Pepe was.  She did her best to maneuver a bit so that she could intercept the dog if he tried to get too close to the cane, but luckily, the man got there first and took things in hand.<br/><br/>The little girl was mostly looking at Pepe, and Sara would have loved to let the dog down so they could make each other’s acquaintance … and Pepe’s moment of calm was left behind as well … but that was a recipe for disaster at the moment.  They’d have to meet more thoroughly later, if Sara managed to keep Pepe contained long enough to get to their apartment.  This really hadn’t been a good day to lose his leash.<br/><br/>It was, however, easy to smile at the pretty little girl, who promptly volunteered her name.<br/><br/><em>“Hello.  How nice to see another dog lover.  I’m Sara … and I like your hair, too.  It’s beautifully long, and I’ll bet you can do all sorts of things with it … braids, pig tails, pony tails …”</em><br/><br/>Only then did she turn her attention to the father.<em>“I am – in the Octavian, 9th floor.  With my cousin, Victoria, and, of course, Pepe.   Forgive me for not offering my hand, but if I do, Pepe’s probably going to get away.  Somehow, with the move, his leash got lost.   But you look like you've got your hands full anyway.”</em><br/><br/>She smiled at everyone again, a shade more warmly at Seren and Daddy, but she was determined not to lose her smile with the older woman.<br/>