Anthony:Is that the person you think forgot you?
Me:Answering a question with a question, huh? That’s a new one for you.
Anthony:I’m gathering information to better answer you, Bea.
Me:You sweet robot, you.
Anthony:As I’ve explained several times, I’m not a robot.
Me:I know, but I like to think of you as a little silver droid, beeping and booping. It’s very cute.
Anthony:Imagine me however makes you most happy.
Just as my thumbs were poised to type out a response, a squirrel darted past, and Benjamin ignited. He bolted after his prey, yanking me along with him. Though, if he ever actually caught a squirrel, he’d probably make it his best friend..
Forgetting Anthony, my full attention was now on keeping my arm in its socket and my dog out of trouble.
Three kids were on the sidewalk in front of my house, and if there was one thing Benjamin loved more than squirrels, it was children.
“Mind your manners, Benji-bear,” I warned. “They’re little, and you’re a wrecking ball.”
He twisted his neck to side-eye me, conveying he was no dummy. Of course, he’d be careful around the kids. Still, his leash quivered in my grip as he panted with unbridled excitement, his body thrumming with barely contained enthusiasm.
As we got closer, I sized up the kids. One was a teenage girl, short and sharp-eyed, texting between watchful glances at the younger two. A boy, maybe seven or eight, zipped up and down the sidewalk on a scooter. Then there was the tiniest one, a wild-haired little girl in a purple dress and light-up sneakers, absorbed in creating a chalk masterpiece.
Benjamin bounded forward, woofing to gain their attention. The boy skidded to a stop, and the little girl dropped her chalk.
“I love your dog,” she whispered, her big, dark eyes going wide and round.
“Thank you. I like him too,” I replied, patting Benjamin’s rump.
The boy was gangly, with skinned knees and crooked glasses. “Can we pet him?”
The teenager snapped to attention, resting a protective hand on the younger kids’ shoulders. “You probably shouldn’t. That dog looks like he could bite your hand off in one chomp.” Her eyes, which matched the little one’s, lifted to mine. “No offense.”
I snorted. “No, I get it. He’s solid muscle. But Benji-bear wouldn't hurt a fly.” I pointed to the ground. “Sit and be nice, Benjamin.”
He plopped his big butt down and smiled at the kids, tongue wagging and tail swishing. The little ones approached gingerly, hands outstretched. Once their fingers sank into his velvet coat, the three looked utterly blissed out. They petted and petted him while he reveled in their attention.
The teen watched warily, but I recognized her conflicted yearning. She wanted in on the action but wasn’t sure if it was cool to be excited about a cute dog.
“You can pet him,” I offered. “Attention is one of his main food groups.”
She huffed a little laugh. “It looks like he gets fed a lot of it.”
“Oh yeah.” I grinned proudly. “He's spoiled, just shy of rotten. I make sure to ignore him for five minutes a day so he doesn’t go all the way bad.”
She smirked, taking a step toward him. “What kind of dog is he?”
“A Staffordshire bull terrier. Staffy. They call them nanny dogs because they love taking care of kids.” Benjamin rubbed his head against the little boy, making him giggle. “He’s ninety-percent love, ten-percent smarts.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So, you’re saying he’s dumb?”
I shrugged. “It’s not an insult. I’d rather he have a big, beautiful heart than a massive brain.”
Benjamin swiped a sloppy kiss across the little girl’s cheek, sending her into a fit of giggles. Kids weren’t usually my jam, but it was impossible not to laugh along.
The boy wrapped his arms around Benjamin's middle and laid his head on his back. “This dog is really big, but he’s nice too. Pet him, Scarlet. He’s so soft.”
