"I'm sorry," apologized the young lady. "Not this time."
Another young lady with a blue denim beach bag coddled a poodle attired in a blue denim collar and leash. "For beach and summer—" she intoned sepulchrally, "cotton. It is completely washable; goes right in the Bendix."
"It's very gay for the Cape," murmured the matron.
Next a lady in a pink kid jacket with poodle stuffed into a pink kid coat with gold buttons. "Leather—" said the lady, "practical for windy weather."
"What goes in the little pocket?" inquired the matron.
"Her mad money," said the young lady.
Then came the poodle known as Roz, morose, in a plastic raincoat, hood and plastic booties. "If your dog objects to the hood," said Mrs. Kruger, "you can roll it back." Roz apparently did not object. "Roz got very sore feet last year from walking, so I had to get her boots. She's used to them." Roz fidgeted. "Of course," said Mrs. Kruger, "she knows it's not raining in here, so she's confused."
There were also pajamas, buttoning up the back. "People have air-conditioned apartments or are fresh-air fiends and a dog needs a little protection." But by all odds the ultimate was, as the young lady reverently announced, "mink and mink." The poodle this time wore a Cerulean mink jacket (Formal and Town); the young lady wore a Cerulean mink coat.
"How much is that?" inquired the matron.
"It's $275," said the master of ceremonies. He (the master of ceremonies, that is) wore a green suit (washable) and a rep tie (nonreversible).