we were walking down south hyde park boulevard and heard a tall girl with a hickey say i told him, don't get me wrong, you're just not my type, with a rueful smile. for some reason i thought of myself being that guy and overhearing her, and feeling stupid because she was too tall for me. but actually i thought about when i met mister and i thought golden retrievers were not my type. i never really knew one before mister. maybe it was some dumb prejudice i picked up from dumb humans. maybe they were too pretty. i'd never known one and i didn't know mister. now i know my life was poor before i knew him, and i can't imagine life now otherwise. he's the dog that resembles in every possible way the dog that was waiting inside.