Dropping my Eaves

The group of people walks by just as the doge squats to pee, and I curse inwardly. If she gets startled, she won't go, and we'll have to start all over looking for a spot.

But for once, she keeps her eyes on the prize, and I get to hear their conversation as they pass.

The woman is pointing over her shoulder at an old building that's been turned into a bank, and the older man says to her (imagine an Eastern European accent, a little like a vampire), "I just wrote a blog post about that last week."