Go Touch Grass
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Hey, are you busy?
Why? Someone wander into the street again? Or are you trapped in the baby carrier?
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Neither, actually. But I wanted to run something by you.
I’m headed to the dog park.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Max O’Reilly… Do you have a dog?
Nah. I’m just one of those creepy dudes who hang out at the park to play with other people’s pets.
I laugh as I scroll through my photo album, looking for the perfect picture of Benny and me to send her. My phone buzzes in my hand.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
That feels shockingly believable, actually.
I find the one I was searching for. It’s a photo of Benny and me cuddled up on the couch. Do I need to be in the picture to get the point across—no. But do I sort of want her to see me with him—yes. I send it, not stopping to assess the weight of the decision.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
SHUT UP! I’m in love.
Feels a little fast to be making those kinds of declarations, Sade. But I really like you too.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
Max! I meant the dog.
Okay, rip my heart out then. Benny is great, though. Very lovable. Are you coming to meet him?
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Maybe Cursed?
I’ll be there in ten.
I push open the gate, sliding my thumb down the lock as we make our way into the park. Mage Hollow has always been pet-friendly, but in the past few years they’ve made several upgrades to this area—Benny loves them all except for the grass-covered ones. Reaching down, I disconnect the leash from his collar, and my buddy takes off, tearing down the paved sidewalk until he finds a series of tunnels to race through.
"Hi Max!" Cindy, a bleach blonde dog park regular, waves from a few yards away where she’s perched on the bench of a picnic table.
I lift my hand, returning the gesture. Instead of walking over and chatting with her like I do every Friday afternoon, I wait by the gate for Sadie. A few minutes pass, and I watch Benny as he races around the paved areas. He pushes a ball toward Cindy’s pug. Buster just looks at him and walks away. Benny follows him, but when Buster trots into the grass, I swear he turns around and smirks at Benny. Can a dog be an asshole? Because if they can, then Buster definitely is—he was smug, prancing away knowing Benny won’t follow.
"Still not touching grass?" Cindy’s saccharine voice sneaks up beside me.
"What?" I bark out, glaring at her jerk dog and my sweet one still pacing the edge like he’s contemplating trying it out.
I get that it’s a weird thing for a dog not to like, and it even frustrates me most of the time. Benny is an angel, though, and hedeserves a better friend.Jesus, I’m acting like he actually is my baby.Maybe Xav was right, and I need to get a grip.
"I asked if he was still refusing to touch the grass," Cindy repeats, judgement in her tone.
I grumble quietly. "Yeah. We’re working on i—"