Four Dogs and the Dog Lover Girl

Every morning and evening, she appears: smart walk, airpods in, four dogs in formation. “Nancy! Take them to the road… some outside for potty!” The problem starts at the lift. It stales there for minutes. She doesn’t care. Few people are angry, but no one says a word. Because it’s momentary… but daily. And sometimes… a dog will pee in the lift. Suddenly, everyone freezes. Who should clean it? What should be done? It’s a natural call — for dogs, and for those of us watching. The situation becomes strangely absurd, a reminder that life doesn’t always follow etiquette. At first, I thought maybe the dogs had constipation. Then I realized… maybe it’s us — holding back, not expressing what we feel. She walks like she owns time, with a different kind of mask on her face. I never could tell if she was cool or a fool. And yet, she inspires. Some people call her Zen. They want to get a dog too. Someone advises wisely: “Good to keep max two.” But if she’s truly a dog lover, wouldn’t she love the street dogs too? The ones without breed, without perfume, without spotlight? Street dogs are good to be fed — mostly on Saturdays, to fix one’s Saturn. One Saturday I thought: why not feed one of her four dogs instead? It was black too. Maybe that would fix more than my Saturn. But will she allow? Never. Her dogs eat customized, branded food. And who will offer free food to dogs who belong to a very rich girl? Dogs are her pride — symbols of care, comfort, and class. It then struck me that Nancy is like the priest of the temple. The temple? These four dogs. The ritual? Morning and evening walks, the potty, the care, the attention. And as she does this, her face almost reflects the calm focus of a monk, completely absorbed in her ritual. I notice something else. She’s now an expert. The earlier miseries — stales lift, waiting neighbors, irritation — all faded. She moves with ease, flow, and quiet authority. And yet, I could never talk to her. But looking at her, I know she must be an interesting talker. One day, a circular arrived from the society office, and a board went up: “Dogs are not allowed.” But for Nancy — the monk of this little temple — who cares? The ritual continued. Morning and evening, walks, care, devotion… uninterrupted.