He only went to the corner for flowers. By the time he had paid, his phone had buzzed three times with the same sender at the top of the screen. This dog dad tote bag carries the evidence home.
The front is three rounded message cards stacked one over the other, each from DOG and each with a round cartoon dog-face avatar, tongue out. The messages go where are you, then hello?, then the deadpan finish: it has been 4 minutes. Heavy capitals for the sender, big bold lowercase for the messages, and no app, no timestamps and no phone frame, only the texts.
Long shoulder handles and a roomy interior, with space for the groceries, the parcel and the treats that buy forgiveness at the door.
A gift from the dog, handed over by the partner who has seen these texts before, a Father's Day pick from the kids, or a housewarming laugh for the newest dog dad on the block.
Quick trip. Long four minutes.
