Grey haired and grey muzzled, they were parked next to me when I came out of the Walgreens.

They belonged, I am sure, to the woman in her forties, I had seen inside wearing a mask and navigating the aisles quickly.

She did not pause (as I had) at the Halloween display near the door.
She did not stop to admire the new fall shades of lipstick, or scan the tabloid headlines.

She was on a mission and time was of the essence.

They had both perked up, I imagine, at the sound of her keys.
Begged a ride. An outing. Jumped at the chance to tag along.

Promised to be good.

And she had promised to be quick.
To be in and out.

She would take them with her, but only as far as the parking lot.

Not because it was too dangerous for the man who had slayed her childhood dragons and banished monsters from under her bed to run a simple errand.

No.

She could not bear to tell him that. Could not herself fully comprehend that her hero could be undone by a simple, carelessly aimed exhale.

She blamed it on the dog.

Of this I am sure.

It would be unfair to leave the dog alone in the car. To make him wait even a few minutes by himself.

“Do me a favor Dad…..” words he never could say no to.

“Wait with him.”

And so he did.

Seeing through her request, he thoughtfully ponders the shore. Watches the boats drift further away in the long, low light of evening.

The dog is not ashamed to meet my gaze.
He is not insulted that he has been told to “stay.”

No.

The dog keeps watch on the door. Patiently awaits her return. Knows he has done his job.

Knows he is a good boy.