An illustrated letter about the little things that bring us together

At 68, I knew the names of every dog on my morning walk. I couldn't tell you the names of half their owners.

There is a little white dog called Alfie who lives three streets away from me.

He has the sort of face that makes you forgive him absolutely anything, and every time I see him on my morning walk, he behaves as though we're old friends who've been separated for years.

I know Alfie's name.

I know Daisy, the golden retriever who refuses to walk past the bakery without stopping.

And I know a very small terrier called Biscuit, who seems to believe he is in charge of the entire neighbourhood.

But here's the embarrassing part.

Until recently, I couldn't have told you the names of most of the people holding their leads.

We would smile, say good morning, talk about how lovely the dog was, and then continue on our way.

I had been doing the same walk for years.

And I knew more about the local dogs than I did about half my neighbours.

My granddaughter Lucy thought this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.

One Sunday she was visiting and asked whether I had any news from my morning walk.

I told her Alfie had a new haircut.

She burst out laughing.

"Nan, you know every dog in Perth. Do you know any of the actual people?"

I told her that was a slight exaggeration.

She asked what Alfie's owner's name was.

I had absolutely no idea.

I had spent years saying hello to the same people without ever getting past the dogs. And somehow, a silly little T-shirt changed that.

It still makes me smile when I think about it.

Because I wasn't looking for anything particularly important when it happened.

Just a white T-shirt with a colourful dog on the front.

But sometimes the smallest things have a way of reminding us how lovely ordinary life can be.

I'm writing this because I suspect there are other women over sixty-five who enjoy those small everyday encounters.

The neighbour you wave to.

The lady you see at the shops.

The familiar faces at the park whose names you somehow never quite learn.

There is something lovely about becoming part of a neighbourhood.

Even if it takes a colourful dog on a T-shirt to get the conversation started.

How my morning walks became a little routine

I've always liked being outside in the mornings.

Especially during spring in Perth, before the days become too hot to enjoy a proper walk.

I usually go out after breakfast.

Nothing particularly ambitious.

A walk around the neighbourhood, perhaps a stop at the little café if I feel like it, then home before the washing machine finishes.

It gives me something to look forward to.

And over the years I've begun recognising the people who do the same thing.

There's a gentleman who walks his old Labrador very slowly, stopping whenever the dog wants to investigate something.

There's a woman with two tiny dogs who seem to spend the entire walk arguing with one another.

And there's a couple who always bring their terrier to the park before going for coffee.

We all recognise one another.

But our conversations rarely go beyond good morning, lovely weather and what a sweet dog.

I suppose that's how neighbourhoods work sometimes.

People can be familiar without really knowing one another.

And as I've grown older, I've come to appreciate those little connections more than I used to.

Not every friendship needs to begin with something important.

Sometimes it can begin with a dog who refuses to stop sniffing the same tree.

The T-shirt Lucy thought was made for me

One afternoon, Lucy was sitting beside me while I looked through some clothes online.

I'd been trying to find a few simple tops for the warmer months.

Nothing particularly exciting.

Just something I could wear with my jeans or linen trousers for ordinary errands, morning walks and casual afternoons at home.

Most of the things I had been looking at were plain.

White.

Navy.

Beige.

The usual colours I tend to buy without thinking.

Then I came across a T-shirt called Bella at Perth Boutique.

It had a little dog printed across the front.

Not an ordinary photograph of a dog.

A wonderfully colourful, almost hand-scribbled illustration, full of red, blue, green, yellow, orange and purple.

The dog had bright eyes, floppy ears, a fluffy tail and a little pink tongue sticking out.

He looked absolutely delighted with himself.

Lucy saw it over my shoulder.

"Nan, that's you."

I asked what she meant.

She laughed and said, "You love every dog you meet. You should have that shirt."

I told her I was sixty-eight years old and wasn't entirely sure I needed a T-shirt with a rainbow dog on it.

She looked at me as though I'd said something very strange.

"But why not?"

And I realised I didn't have a particularly convincing answer.

It was just a cheerful T-shirt.

There was no reason I couldn't enjoy wearing it.

I kept looking at the picture.

There was something very appealing about that little dog.

He wasn't particularly elegant.

He didn't look serious.

He certainly wasn't trying to impress anyone.

He just looked happy.

And I thought perhaps there was nothing wrong with having something cheerful in the wardrobe for a change.

Why I chose the Bella

The first thing that caught my attention was obviously the dog.

But I wouldn't have bought it on the print alone.

At my age, I appreciate simple clothes that work with the things I already own.

The Bella is a straightforward short-sleeved T-shirt with a classic round neckline.

Nothing complicated.

No unusual fastening.

No enormous decorative collar.

And no particular outfit required to go with it.

I could imagine wearing the white one with jeans, linen trousers or a casual skirt.

Exactly the kind of things I put on for my morning walks and ordinary errands.

The design itself brings plenty of colour, so I wouldn't need anything especially bright with it.

Plain trousers, comfortable shoes and my usual handbag would be enough.

That's what made it appealing.

It was something a little different without making getting dressed more difficult.

And the little dog looked as though he might be a fairly good companion for a walk.

The morning it arrived

When the Bella arrived, I took it out and laid it on the bed to have a proper look.

The white background made the colours stand out beautifully.

There was a surprising amount of detail in the little dog's face.

Blue and orange around the ears.

Little red and yellow scribbles around the body.

Bright eyes and that ridiculous happy expression.

I remember looking at it and laughing.

Not because it was particularly sophisticated.

It wasn't supposed to be.

That was rather the point.

After years of buying sensible clothes, I had found something that made me smile before I'd even put it on.

I tried it on with my usual jeans.

Then I put on my comfortable sandals and looked in the mirror.

I wasn't trying to make a fashion statement.

I simply wanted a casual top I liked.

And I rather liked the way it looked.

The white kept it simple, while the dog added enough colour that the whole outfit felt a little more cheerful.

I didn't need a scarf.

I didn't need special jewellery.

And I certainly didn't need to buy different trousers just to wear it.

That was good enough for me.

The morning walk that started a conversation

The next Saturday, I put the Bella on for my usual morning walk.

It was a lovely spring morning, with just enough breeze to make being outside particularly pleasant.

I took my handbag, my keys and a little shopping list because I needed a few things on the way home.

Then I set off through the neighbourhood.

I'd been walking for about ten minutes when I saw Alfie coming towards me.

As usual, he was delighted with the world.

He stopped to say hello, and I bent down to give him a little pat.

His owner looked at my T-shirt and smiled.

"Well, that's a cheerful little dog."

I laughed and told her I'd found it online.

She said it looked a little like Alfie, if Alfie had been painted in every colour under the sun.

We both laughed.

And then, for some reason, the conversation continued.

We talked about how long she'd had Alfie, how much he enjoyed his walks and the way he apparently believed every person he met was his friend.

Before we went our separate ways, I finally asked her name.

It was Margaret.

All those years of saying hello, and I'd never properly introduced myself.

I told her my name was Maggie.

She said it was lovely to finally know.

And I walked the rest of the way to the café feeling rather pleased with the whole morning.

All because a colourful dog had started a conversation.

What happened at the café

I stopped for coffee on the way home.

The little café near the park has a few tables outside, and I usually sit there for a while if the weather is pleasant.

That morning, I found a spot in the shade and ordered my usual coffee.

A woman at the next table noticed my T-shirt while I was sitting down.

She smiled and asked where I'd found the dog.

I told her Perth Boutique.

She said her granddaughter would love the colours.

Then she asked whether I had a dog of my own.

We ended up talking for a few minutes about the dogs we'd known over the years.

Nothing especially important.

Just a pleasant conversation between two women having coffee on a Saturday morning.

But I remember thinking how often I'd sat at that café without saying more than hello to anyone.

And here I was, chatting away because somebody liked the little dog on my shirt.

It was surprisingly lovely.

Not every conversation becomes a friendship.

But I think there's something rather nice about small moments of connection.

Especially when you're older and your days are sometimes a little quieter than they used to be.

The shirt that was ready for Sunday lunch

The following day, Kate invited us over for lunch.

Nothing formal.

Her husband was making something on the barbecue, the grandchildren were in the garden and everybody was coming and going through the kitchen.

I was getting ready when I noticed the Bella hanging over the back of the dining chair.

I'd put it there after washing and folding some clothes.

And I thought it would be quite nice to wear it again.

So I did.

With pale trousers, flat sandals and my usual earrings.

Nothing more complicated than that.

Lucy spotted the print as soon as I walked into the kitchen.

"Nan! You bought the dog shirt!"

She looked absolutely delighted.

I told her she'd been responsible for the whole thing.

She asked whether anybody had commented on it.

I told her about Margaret and Alfie.

Then I told her about the woman at the café.

Lucy laughed and said I was going to end up knowing the entire neighbourhood through that shirt.

I told her not to get carried away.

But it was lovely to see her so pleased about something so small.

And I rather liked that we'd found another little thing to laugh about together.

Why I wore it again

I've worn the Bella for several ordinary things since.

A quick trip to the shops.

Morning tea with a friend.

An afternoon at home when I had a few things to do and didn't feel like getting particularly dressed up.

That's what I like about it.

It's just a simple T-shirt.

The shape is familiar, the white goes with the casual clothes I already own, and the dog makes it a little more interesting.

I don't need to decide whether it's suitable for some grand occasion.

I don't need to save it for best.

And I don't need to worry about whether it looks fashionable enough.

It is cheerful, uncomplicated and exactly the sort of top I like wearing on an ordinary day.

At sixty-eight, I've spent enough time choosing clothes that are perfectly sensible but don't bring me any particular pleasure.

There is nothing wrong with buying something simply because it makes you smile.

I used to think getting dressed properly meant choosing something that wouldn't attract much attention.

Something tasteful.

Something plain.

Something nobody would have a strong opinion about.

But the little dog on this shirt doesn't seem particularly concerned with any of that.

He looks quite happy being himself.

Perhaps there's a lesson in there somewhere.

Three things I've learned from a colourful dog

One. Not every nice conversation needs a grand introduction. Sometimes all it takes is somebody noticing something cheerful. I've walked past the same people for years, and a small conversation about a dog can be a lovely way to get to know them.

Two. Casual clothes don't have to be completely plain. I still like my white, navy and beige tops. But a little colour on an otherwise simple T-shirt is a pleasant change, particularly when it works with the jeans and trousers I already own.

Three. There's no age limit on having a sense of humour. I don't need everything in my wardrobe to look serious simply because I'm sixty-eight. Sometimes a funny, colourful little dog is exactly what I feel like wearing.

That third lesson has probably made me smile more than any of the others.

Getting older changes plenty of things.

But I don't think it should mean giving up the little things that make ordinary days enjoyable.

Why I chose the white one

The Bella is listed in several colours.

There are greens, blues, purple, red and darker options as well as white.

But I liked the white because it lets the colourful design stand out.

The little dog is full of bright shades.

Red around the ears.

Blue and green through the body.

Yellow, orange and purple scattered everywhere.

And on a white background, those colours really are the whole point.

It makes an otherwise plain T-shirt feel cheerful without needing any additional pattern.

I can wear it with blue jeans, pale linen trousers or the simple casual things I reach for throughout spring and summer.

I don't need to buy a new handbag.

I don't need special shoes.

And I certainly don't need to plan an entire outfit around it.

That suits me very well.

About the price

I want to mention the price properly, because it's something I always check before ordering clothes online.

Perth Boutique currently lists the Bella Colourful Dog Print Tee at $49.95 AUD, with a displayed comparison price of $100.00.

That's an advertised saving of approximately fifty per cent.

It's worth checking the product details rather than ordering something simply because there's a discount.

The Bella has a classic round neckline, short sleeves and a colourful illustrated dog printed on the front.

The store describes it as a relaxed everyday style for casual outings, weekends and meeting friends.

It comes in sizes S through 4XL.

That is a fairly broad size range, which is lovely to see.

But I'd still recommend checking the measurements before ordering.

Even a simple T-shirt can fit differently from one style to another, and some of us prefer a little more room than others.

Several colours are available, although white is the one shown here.

Perth Boutique also advertises free Australian delivery.

The site shows different return periods in different sections, so I'd check the current returns policy before placing an order.

For me, the Bella's appeal is very simple.

An uncomplicated white top.

A colourful dog illustration.

And something cheerful that works with the casual clothes I already own.

That's enough for me to think it's worth a closer look.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting in my kitchen with a cup of tea between us, and you told me you loved something cheerful but thought it might be a bit silly for a woman your age, I think I'd tell you about Lucy.

And Alfie.

And Margaret, whose name I finally learned after years of saying hello to her dog.

Because sometimes I think we make the little things unnecessarily difficult.

We worry whether a colour is too bright.

Whether a print is too playful.

Whether somebody might think we're trying to dress younger than we are.

And we forget that clothes can simply be something we enjoy.

Not everything needs to make us look elegant.

Not everything needs to be saved for a special occasion.

Some things can just be cheerful.

If you love dogs, enjoy a bit of colour and like having simple tops to wear with your everyday trousers, the Bella is worth looking at.

Have a look at the design, check the measurements and see whether it's something you'd actually enjoy wearing.

It won't be everyone's taste.

And that's perfectly fine.

But if the little dog makes you smile, perhaps that's a good enough reason to give it a second look.

At sixty-eight, I don't think I need to become more serious with every birthday.

I've raised children, looked after a family, worked hard and spent an awful lot of time being sensible.

There's still room for a little silliness.

And there's certainly room for a colourful dog on an ordinary white T-shirt.

I wore it again on my morning walk this week.

Alfie came running over as usual.

Margaret said good morning.

And this time I could greet both of them by name.

That made me rather happy.

At 68, I've decided that not everything I wear needs to be sensible and serious. Some things are allowed to make me smile.

Maggie