I saw him from a distance, as the number 10 W Class tram lurched from the Scotchmer Street stop. A farm dog in Fitzroy, he timed his lazy crossing of St Georges Road ahead of the tram and traffic, those green eyes glancing sideways as he paced his run to the wood yard stop. With a clean leap he was on board through half-open doors and half-open legs, then with a wag and a smile, he recognised a friend at the back of the tram and promptly settled himself down for a pat.
"G'day Tom, how's it going?" said the old bloke.
"Tickets please!" shouted the conductor as he swayed down the aisle. "Is the dog yours?" asked the conductor.
"He's not mine" replied the old bloke.
"Well he knows you," said the conductor and with that the passengers watched the red dog jump cleanly to the curb as the tram slowed to the Newry Street stop.
Through the cars, across the road and into the open corner door of the pub he disappeared, where no doubt he was in search of his owner for a cool drink and the appropriate tram fare.
Keep cruising Tom.