In the Waiting Room at My Acupuncturist's Office

I am sitting in a chair, flipping through a magazine.  Isaac is lying quietly at my feet.

A woman comes in, squeals, "What a pretty dog!" and bends over to pet Isaac's head.

I say, "Isaac, stay," and he does, although he makes flirty eyes with the petting woman.

Finally, she takes a seat (far enough away that she can't pet him).  Then she strikes up a conversation with me.

Woman: Are you training him?

Me: No, he's trained.

Woman:  He's trained?

Me: Yes.

Woman: Oh... well, he seems like he's well trained.

Me: Yes.  Thank you.

Woman: They train them a lot near where I live.

Me:  Uh huh. (I don't ask where she lives.  I assume she means some organization trains service dogs near where she lives, but I don't ask that, either).

Woman:  I know you're not supposed to pet them.  I knew I shouldn't pet him when I saw him, but then I saw those eyes and I had to.

Me: Um....

Woman: He just has such beautiful eyes.

Me: Yeah, he does.

Woman: He reminds me of my lab, Sammy.  He looks just like him.  Except Sammy was all black.

Me: Oh.

Woman: He died recently.  We had to put him down.  He had cancer.  He got it from lying in front of the fire place.

Me (slightly confused): I'm sorry to hear that.

Luckily, at that point my name was called.  I said good-bye and hurried away.