I was lazily exploring the small streets in my new neighborhood when I slowed down to a crawl while looking at a row of five Sears kit houses to my left. The homes were in disrepair except for the fourth one that had been lovingly restored.

Movement caught my eye on the right. The first thing I saw was a young Asian boy, maybe six or seven, running from his apartment complex with his arms flailing out from his sides. His father was close behind him. Between two parked cars, I saw a small black dog leading the pair on their chase. The dog was headed straight for the traffic on Vermont Avenue.

Just before the curb of the street, the father lunged and grabbed the small dog into his arms. His son reached up, petting his little friend, and the pair walked back to the open courtyard of their apartment, no doubt giving that dog a piece of their mind.* * * *It was around three this morning when I heard the noise from downstairs. I looked toward my bedside stand and saw that Billy’s candle had already burned its course. I reached to my right and found Steve wasn’t in bed with me. While I slowly pulled back the covers, I heard loud banging coming up the back stairs. Completely unprepared to fend of an attacker, I sat there waiting.

Steve stood in the doorway, lit by the nightlight from the bathroom, the plastic lid from the kitchen trashcan around his neck like an unwanted necklace. He looked embarrassed and all I could do was slowly take it off, kiss his nose, and welcome him back to bed.

Tags: dogs