Saw Something, Said Something: Libby and Leilei Style

July 3, about 8:30 p.m. Libby, Leilei, and I are on the Orange Line, heading inbound. Why? Long, silly story, but anyway . . .
The subway doors open at Ruggles, and a guy and a dog walk in.
The guy: very big, somewhat disheveled and menacing-looking, tattoos, scowling.
The dog: HUGE, furry and white, ice-blue eyes, teeth visible beneath black whiskers, adorned with about four separate black leather restraints and one of those studded collars that make me just a wee bit anxious.
I instinctively put one arm around each girl, and stare into space.

Libby: Can I pet your dog?

Guy: (at first incredulous that anyone, let alone this pipsqueak, is addressing him on the subway): What?

Libby: Can I pet your dog?

Guy: Sure.

Ok, I am positive this is the kind of dog that would happily rip my daughter apart. Other passengers, overhearing, also look apprehensive (or as apprehensive as you can look when pretending not to see or hear anything around you)
Nonetheless, I want my children to be brave, just like I am. Usually. Except in this case. I reluctantly release my grip on Libby. She crosses the train and pets this monster dog.

Monster dog: looks at Libby balefully, but submits to petting.

Leilei: What her name?

Guy: Sinatra.

Leilie: What???

Guy and me, simultaneously, me too eagerly because I want my kids to stop interacting with monster dog and disreputable-looking guy: SINATRA.

Libby: What kind of dog is he?

Guy tells her the dog is half wolf, half Siberian husky. Great.

Libby: Why does he have all those leashes?

I brace myself for some horrible S & M fetish thing, but actually, guy has good reasons for all the leashes. One is attached to his belt, so monster dog can pull him on his scooter. Other one is attached to studded collar to restrain monster dog if necessary in public places. The other two are simply reinforcements.

Libby, Leilei, and guy chat amiably about dog training, how fast the dog can go, our dog, etc.

Leilei: I want to teach my dog to pull me on scooter.

Guy: No, it is dangerous. I've broken my pelvis, my collar-bone, my shoulder . . .

Me (inwardly): Why does guy persist in this dangerous pasttime? Decide not to ask.

Libby: Where are you getting off?

Now guy is laughing, everyone around us is laughing, and I notice the guy has a really nice smile. And the dog is really beautiful.

Guy: Quincy Market.

But we're at Chinatown, so we say good-by, and get off. I think the rest of the evening about the guy and the monster dog careening through Quincy Market. I like commuting with my girls!