Pekinese

The second last time I was in Shanghai, over a coffee at Starbucks I found myself chatting to the guy next to me, a slightly chubby corporate sales guy.

After a little while I asked him whether the little fluffy thing at his feet was his girlfriend’s dog.

No.

Was he by any chance gay?

No.

I queried his choice of dog in the context of his masculinity. Nicely, of course.

The answer came back laughingly – the thing is a chick magnet.*

* – this is my interpretation of two minutes of explanation