George Orwell's Dogs

 I was catching a bus today and the fastest way to the bus stop is across a park. It was 9.30 a.m. and several people were walking their dogs. A man greeted me as our paths crossed and for the strangest moment after having said "Good morning," I felt compelled to add, "I'm sorry, I don't have a dog." It was the same feeling you get when a cashier asks, "Do you have a loyalty card? " and you have to admit your disloyalty.
I do worry that dogs are taking over the world. I have several friends who accuse me of not liking dogs, which is not true, but I do strongly object to being knocked into a poor ninth place in my friends' affections by a mere animal. On the way home from the bus stop, I traversed the park again. On the other side of a large shrub, I could hear Martin having a proper scolding by his mother, as I rounded the shrub I discovered Martin was a Swedish Lapphund and the woman was not his actual mother. I'm not sure what Martin had done, but it wasn't the first time.
My anxiety over the Orwellian concept of dogs running the world, is partly fueled by Facebook. I really want someone to invent "Dogbook," (I retain intellectual property rights should that happen.) however, having publicly suggested this concept in my "What's on your mind" box, I received a notification from a friend who apologised for her dog and cat posts and kindly offered to let me unfriend her. Mr Orwell, you were ahead of your time.