A heartwarming story of everyday Leith folk and fighting dogs - Susan Morrison

Most of the buildings on old Kirkgate and neighbouring streets such as Tolbooth Wynd were demolished in the 1960s and replaced by the Newkirkgate Shopping Centre and a housing complex

Don’t get me wrong, there has always been seating of some sort. There were a couple of benches surrounding a huge anchor at one point, but they became a bit tatty.

The seats outside Costa are much nicer, and with a supply of hot and cold beverages to hand. What’s not to love?

For those of you who don’t know the area, Kirkgate is an ancient thoroughfare. It runs north from the foot of Leith Walk towards Leith Docks. It is one of the oldest streets in the district and historically one of its most vital road links.

A bit of sun, good seating and handy refreshments all add up to a ringside seat to whatever drama happens in the arena that is the Kirkgate. The advantage to those of us who miss the opening act is that there is always someone who can tell you what happened.

Earlier this week I popped around to Lidl to find the Kirkgate in an uproar. Very young policemen and women swarming all over the place, people waving arms, pointing and shouting and even shop assistants running about.

A police van was actually parked in the Kirkgate itself, right slap bang outside Boots. That’s not particularly unusual. Sometimes I think the police just want to get nearer to Costa. Fair do’s.

They don’t get long for their breaks and every second counts. A second car came whizzing in, all wha-wha noises and full-on disco a-gogo light show

When I was a child, if we saw a stramash my mother would grip my hand firmly and march resolutely past. Only common folk stood about gawping. And you certainly didn’t ask what was going on.

Some of her life lessons stuck. I can actually pass as nearly middle class. I know which fork you need to eat your starter. At polite gatherings I do not dunk my biscuit in the tea.

But show me a stooshie in the street, all pretentious go out the window and I have to know what’s going on, and the best way to do it is to just ask.

Just a heads up. There’s a particular group that sits on the council-provided benches beside Queen Victoria. Don’t ask them. They have their own reasons for being slightly alarmed by a sudden police presence.

On the other hand, the tables outside Costa were chocka, and like a caffeine-fuelled Greek chorus, they just couldn’t wait to tell the tale.

It was a genuinely horrific story. A vicious dog, variously identified as an American XL, a Pit bull or a Staffie, attacked a little pug. But it was also a story of quite remarkable courage.

Bystanders moved in straightaway to help. No small task if you saw the attacker. A young woman flew out of a pharmacy with a chair and together they managed to break the grip of the bigger dog.

They got the big dog, and his owner. They didn’t stand a chance, really. The crowd outside the coffee shop was more reliable than CCTV, if a great deal swearier.

It was a weirdly affirmative community moment. People came together to save the little dog and to share the story

Next time you see a rammy, ask what’s happening. Oh, and the wee pug has recovered. A woman outside Greggs told me that later.