So there I was having a nap in my favourite bookshop, as I do, when I heard this great manly guffaw coming from my right. It was loud enough to wake me up from my beauty sleep. Maybe, the bookshop staff put the man up to this task so he could wake up all customers treating their shop as a doss-house.
I opened my eyes so I could glare at the offending subject. The only person around was a woman browsing on a shelf. That voice definitely sounded like a man's. Maybe, it was just my imagination. So I went back to sleep. After a few minutes I heard the guffaw again. Who could it be? I looked round and still I couldn't see anyone except the woman. I was now too fully awake to think of going back to sleep but I decided to have a shut eye, just in case. Then I heard the man's laughter again.
This is ridiculous! How come I still can't see the man with the voice? Is this bookshop haunted? Then something told me to look down and there he was: a Terrier on a lead standing next to the woman who was browsing.
"Excuse me?" I said to the woman. "Was that your dog laughing out loud?"
"He's not actually laughing, he's just telling me he wants to go. We've just come from Hyde Park and he's finding this boring."
"Oh I see,” it was my turn to chuckle.
Incidentally, I had also just come from Hyde Park before I came to the bookshop.
After a few minutes the dog protested again and the woman beat a hasty retreat.
I don't blame the dog really for finding the bookshop uninteresting. I mean, he's just been in Hyde Park, which has to be the doggie equivalent of a library/bookshop what with all those records of smells to explore. No wonder the dog was making his feelings very clear. It's the first time I've ever seen a dog in a bookshop though. I guess they allowed him because he's only a tiny thing albeit with a great big voice.
Anyway, Mr Dog, I understand where you're coming from. One man's love of bookshops has to be the doggie equivalent of barking madness, right?