The dog squats in the glare of the streetlight on her final walk of the night, when one of the kids with the clipboards saunters up for the shakedown.
I demur to his obviously fake sales pitch for a "basketball team," and he stands for a moment without speaking, then steps into my personal space. "Why don't you just give me some money and we'll call it a night."
I check to see if the dog is done (and she is surely taking her sweet time tonight) and when she stands, I let her lead the way, saying, "Sorry, I've got nothing on me."
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