How to Get a (Love) Life by Rosie Blake

trotting after me.
    Pulling on his lead, I headed around the corner of Park Street and up towards Brandon Hill – Bristol’s premiere dog-walking spot.
    I was quite enjoying myself. The dog and I were entertained by numerous games of chase the stick and I loved the feeling of being out in the fresh air, doing something a little different from my normal everyday routine. I realised I had barely noticed if there were many men around to talk to and, as I stopped to catch my breath after a particularly brutal over-arm throw, I reminded myself that the whole point of this exercise was to find a like-minded soul. If I didn’t find someone soon, Caroline would set up me with another eligible young bachelor from her list. I shuddered.
    ‘Aw, what’s its name?’ came a voice from nearby.
    I looked about myself and spotted a middle-aged woman with a black Labrador attached to a lead beside her. I was about to engage in my first dog-walker talk! Only, I realised, I had forgotten to ask what the dog was called.
    The woman approached and patted the borrowed dog enthusiastically, as her Labrador sniffed at my shoes, its tail wagging. She looked at me, expecting an answer.
    ‘Oh, um it’s called. It’s called … It.’
    ‘It?’ said the woman, with a frown.
    ‘Er, yes short for … um … short for … Kermit … It.’ I nodded slowly, feeling like an absolute fool.
    ‘Kermit …’ The woman looked at me, then back at the dog and then back up at me, a worried expression on her face. ‘How … nice. Kermit. Like the frog.’
    ‘Yes, ha … ha.’
    ‘Funny name for a dog, isn’t it?’ She laughed.
    ‘Yes. I suppose it is. Anyway, I best get on,’ I said with false gusto. ‘Come on, It! Come on, you,’ I said, tugging at his lead and wandering away.
    He or, rather, It , grumpily waddled after me, sad to be leaving the lady and her Labrador.
    I scanned the fields in search of any eligible looking men to strike up conversation with, but there were none, unless you counted the very old man over there, walking a Dachshund attached to a piece of string. I suspected he wasn’t The One . I sighed. This was no good. And It didn’t seem to like me very much at all. ‘Oh come on,’ I said to It. ‘Let’s get you back.’
    As we were walking back down Park Street I decided to drop into the office and show him to Caroline. There was still a bit of time before I was supposed to meet Sandra, and Caroline just loved dogs. I pushed the door open a fraction and indicated to Caroline with a finger to my lips that she should keep the noise down. But, of course, the moment she saw the little dog she started clapping her hands and squealing like I’d just announced it was an unexpectedly early Christmas …
    ‘Oooh, he’s lovely,’ she said, scooting out from her desk to come and pet him. ‘I didn’t know you had a dog, Nic?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t he’s a … friend’s.’
    ‘What’s going on out there?’ James’ voice sounded out from his office.
    Caroline giggled.
    ‘We should go,’ I whispered, backing away from Caroline and towards the door. ‘Back soon.’
    It, having clearly taken to Caroline, chose that moment to let out a round of noisy barks.
    James appeared in the doorway. I was sure I was about to get into trouble, when James surprised us both. His face lit up and he practically fell over the corner of my desk in his haste to join us. He scooped the dog up into his arms. ‘He’s brilliant.’ He put him back down onto the floor and ruffled his ears. ‘Good boy,’ he said, in a voice strikingly similar to the one he used when speaking to our trickier clients. He picked up a packet of Jaffa Cakes from Caroline’s desk and removed one, ‘Have a biscuit, doggy, have a …’
    Caroline reached over, plucked the Jaffa Cake out of his hand and put it straight into her mouth.
    James looked aghast.
    ‘What?’ she mumbled through munching. ‘A waste of perfectly good chocolate. Don’t you dare. And, anyway,’