a dog with a grin

He dropped the ball and ran towards me, a dog-smile quickening his rolling pace.

"Stop! Heel!" came the cry, disregarded. I was a stranger, I had to be assessed.

He plunged his nose into my hand, then jumped at my face, gauging my reaction. I smiled and let him carry out his inspection.

She hurried over, reprimanding him (as if he understood English). Bending to grab him by the collar, she looked up at me, all fluster and flame.

"Sorry about that," she said (as if she really cared).

"No problem." I stared at her face for a moment. I felt something building inside me, some radical statement, something huge and illogical and heart-throbbing, something to tell the grandkids about someday.

I opened my boiling mouth.

"He's a nice dog," I offered.

She smiled. I knew I'd won.

As if she could've.