Chapter 26 - THE DOG
Harper adopted a dog at twenty-nine.
Of course she did.
A rescue mutt named Maple.
Brown ears.
White paws.
Completely spoiled.
The first time Harper brought Maple to my house, the dog wore a red collar.
I froze.
Not dramatically.
Half a second.
Harper saw.
“Oh.”
I laughed.
“It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Mom.”
“It’s a dog collar.”
She looked at Maple.
“Technically.”
Maple sneezed.
No symbolism from the animal.
Harper asked:
“Do you want me to change it?”
“No.”
That mattered.
“No.”
We took Maple for a walk.
Red leash.
Not chain.
Normal nylon.
Harper handed it to me while she tied her shoe.
My fingers closed around the handle.
Thirty years of imagined metal lived in one second.
Then Maple pulled toward a squirrel.
I nearly lost my arm.
Harper laughed so hard she had to sit on the curb.
The leash became what it was.
A leash.
For a dog.
May you like
Nothing more.
I thanked the squirrel privately.
