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The metropolitan dog walker is a judgmental type. I know, because I am one. The daily ball-throwing expeditions in the park serve as both loyal devotion to one’s four-legged’s health and wellbeing and also a prime opportunity to fiercely critique other people’s dogs.
I don’t know about you, but I consider myself something of an expert in the art of London pouch-panning and dog-bitching. I am an Anna Wintour/Suzy Menkes sort, checking out coats and paws, pricked-up ears and waggly tails on the international runway known as the Kensington Gardens Broad Walk.