A Man With His Dog

A man with his dog.....
No, a man with his pug are walking towards me.
There is no lead, just an obedient and loyal pug, man's best friend.
What can I see?
He isn't very tall by the looks of things. 
He is quite far away and walking at a calm pace.
No, not calm, careful.
It seems to me that his pace is careful.
He knows his route and his eyes look around him continuously.
Yes, his pace seems careful.
It's cold out here in the park but he has the sleeves of his burgendy jumper rolled up revealing weather beaten arms.
And upon closer inspection I can see his arms are covered in hair.
A lot of hair.
And his feet? 
You can tell a lot by a person's shoes.
He is wearing a black and white shoe somewhere between a converse and a trainer.
I guess he likes his comforts.
And why not?
I would say he is in his fifties, enjoy that comfort good sir!
His hair is neatly cropped with a sprinkling of grey.
It's a salt and pepper pot.
It matches his trousers.
Once were black but have been so well worn with stains and fluff.
He is stood near me now, bent down to re-attach the lead to his happy, little, golden pug.
A flurry of colours swirling around them in the Autumn wind.
If this wasn't reality I would take a picture.
A snapshot.
He seems so sad.
His eyes are suck quite far into his skull leaving dark circles under his eyes.
He gives the sweet pug a rub behind the ears and says "It's time to go home".
No happiness in that voice.
I can't help but feel for this man.
They slowly follow the path round to the park gates.
And the man with his dog are gone.