Bella and Azul

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On BART, going into San Francisco. There is a girl, early twenties, sitting across from me on the ground, with a pug puppy that's very rambunctious. She has tattoos on her hands. She's wearing a pink Thrasher hoodie, with sparkly letters. A man walks up, and bends down to pet the dog. He smiles at the girl, then sits down, still petting the dog, and starts making small talk. He asks her name. She tells him, but he doesn't get it at first. She has to repeat it three times: Bella. The man stretches out on the floor, propping his head on his hand. He gets out his phone, and they appear to exchange numbers. After a few stops he gets off. 

Four hours later, returning from San Francisco, the same girl gets on the train, and sits on the floor across from me. She gets a treat out of her backpack and starts training the dog: sit, lie down, good boy! I can see the dog's name tag: Azul. A guy comes up, bends down, and starts petting the dog. They smile at each other, and start talking. 

I had to get off the train, so I don't know how that one ended.