I'm sure we are a sight to be seen- snow pants and a parka, winter hat with ear flaps, huge mittens and giant boots, I waddle more than I walk, dragging two sad looking bulldogs (yes, they were both behind me most of the way, taking tiny steps and making pound puppy faces).
We'd gone less than a block when a woman came running towards me, saying, "wait, stop!" I didn't recognize her as a neighbor and then I saw that she had pulled her car over and it was still idling as she approached me. She didn't look particularly friendly and I wasn't sure if we'd done something offensive in the 5 minutes we'd been outside, but I prepared myself to get yelled at anyway.
When she got near me, she said, "I brake for bulldogs!" And then she went on to explain how she'd grown up with a bulldog and how much she loves them and when she saw me walk by she just needed to stop and say hello. I wanted to encourage her to be less creepy about it next time, but instead I smiled and introduced Olivia and Griffin.
The thing about bulldogs is that they are the most friendly, lovable dogs, and regardless of who you are, they will greet you as if they've been waiting for hours and you are the only person alive and they haven't had any attention in days and you are their savior. Their enthusiasm is incredibly rewarding.
So my little hams wiggled and snuggled right up to her, their faces on top of each other as they competed for her affection. Griffin somehow managed to get his entire face smashed into her hands, with just a little bit of tongue poking out of his mouth, while wiggling his whole body, making him the most irresistible dog that ever lived.
She petted them and cooed and gushed about there's no other dog but bulldogs and then she thanked me for stopping and was on her way.
This is not the first time I have had someone brake for bulldogs. When Olivia was just a puppy, an older gentleman was driving by and when he pulled over and starting talking to me from the side of the road, I smiled and chatted politely, thinking it was strange but kind of sweet. When he got out of his car to show me a photo of his long deceased bulldog (that he still carried in his car), I continued to be friendly, but I had my hand in my pocket, prepared for the possibility that I might have to mace him (I didn't have to).
I understand the power of the bulldog.