Dog Park

Chapter 1

There's a boy at the dog park.
He's seventeen, maybe. My age. He has curly blond hair that flops over his face. One hand is in the pocket of his loose jeans. The other clutches a light blue leash, which is connected to the smallest buffalo I've ever seen. As the creature drags him close to me, I can see that it is, in fact, a dog. An enormous mutt with long, shaggy hair and a tongue that sticks out the side of its mouth. When it opens its mouth to squeak, I can see that it still has the teeth of a puppy, maybe a year old max.
    It pulls hard, straining to get towards me. The leash snaps, pitching both boy and dog forward. I lunge forward to help him up.
    He takes my hand hesitantly, palm scraped by the gravelly sand. I help him up, noting almost subconsciously how he totters on his feet for a moment. His cheeks are a painful, burning red, and he won't meet my eyes as he mumbles a thank you. I open my mouth to say something, maybe make a joke. Before I can, I see his eyes widen and stare behind me.
    "Gaius, no!" He darts past me, and I spin with him. I see his enormous dog bounding right up to my baby. Before they can collide, it skids to a stop right in front of her, cornering her against the wall. I expect the worst, but it just plants its butt in the dirt and pants at my shaking puppy.
    The boy scoops up the beast with disturbing ease, considering that this section of the park is reserved for dogs fifty pounds and over.
    "Gaius, we've been over this! If you break the leash, you get lifted!" He turns towards me, barely able to see over his fluffy, drooling burden.
    "I'm so, so sorry. We're trying to find a leash that can hold him, but apparently it's not this one. Is your dog okay?" I go over to Cerberus, who seems scared but unharmed. I pet her head until she calms down and follows at my heel.
    "Yeah, she's alright." I eye him and hand him my leash.
"This should hold him for a little bit. Cerberus doesn't really need it anyway." I hope he doesn't try to correct my pronunciation. Three years of fifth-period Latin has taught me that it's CARE-bear-us, not SER-burr-us.
"Thank you so much! I didn't really fancy carrying him..." His voice is muffled in the mass of fur as he clasps the leash to a previously hidden harness deep in the fluff. Gaius is dumped to the floor, and I am face to face with an absolutely adorable boy. He stares at me for a moment, though he won't meet my eyes. His are trained somewhere at my left eyebrow. After a second of stuttering, I manage to ask a question.
"His name is Gaius? As in Julius?"
"Yeah. I like history." He says quietly, face painted pink. "I know it's not a great dog name-"
"No!" I say, too loud, wincing inwardly. "Sorry, I mean it's an awesome dog name. I mean, he can't hear it, 'cause there are no hard consonants, but I love it." Sometimes my study of dogs makes for great conversations. Sometimes, it doesn't.
"Yeah, I know." He laughs, and I want to hear nothing else for the rest of my life. "I chose it 'cause he can't hear anything anyway. He's deaf." I nod and hope my face is making an appropriate shape.
"Who's your lovely lady here?" He asks. I rest my hand on her head.
"This is Cerberus. She's a year and a half old and sixty pounds." He smiles brightly and bends down, letting her sniff him. She seems to approve and wraps her mouth, teeth and all, around his arm. She releases before he can hurt himself pulling back.
"Sorry, I should have warned you. That's how she says hello to people she likes."
"Well, Cerberus, I'm honored." He says, wiping his arm off on his pants. He even pronounces it right. I'm in love.
The other park goers have given us a wide berth. Between my sixty-pound pitt and his small, enthusiastic elephant, I'm not surprised.
"What about Gaius? He's, what, a year? Eighty pounds?" The dog in question is sitting politely on the floor, his enormous head lolled back against his person's hip.
"Close, yeah. He's ten months and eighty-six pounds." I let out a surprised huff.
"He's gonna keep growing then, wow. Any idea what he is?"
"No clue. I found him a month ago stuck in the green waste bin."
"He wasn't chipped or anything?"
"Nope. He had no collar, no chip, no nothing. He's not fixed yet- we have an appointment in two weeks- but we did get him vaccinated." Gaius whimpers, clearly displeased with the lack of activity.
"Okay, okay, you giant baby. If I throw the ball, are you gonna behave?" He says, pulling a tennis ball out of absolutely nowhere and unclips the leash. He looks to me for a moment. "Is Cerberus gonna be okay if I throw it?" I nod, not sure in the slightest what she'll do. He pulls back his arm and chucks the ball.
The yellow-green orb sails over the park, further than I would have thought possible. Gaius takes off like a shot, just a brown-gray blur. Cerberus does the same, streaking through the park. Somehow, she's faster, speeding down the extensive length of dirt. I've never seen her run this fast. Then again, I've never thrown a ball for her.
"I only got Cerberus about five months ago. I don't think she's ever caught a tennis ball." He looks at me quizzically.
"You didn't try throwing one for her?" From anyone else, it would seem judgemental. Not from him.
"My shoulder's all messed up. Can't throw much of anything."
"That sucks, sorry." He's sincere, but not pitying. It's perfect.
"Yeah. If she reacts like this every time, I might just need to keep you around." He smiles again, shyly. I watch as Cerberus catches the ball in mid-air with an impressive jump. The boy starts clapping and bouncing before he catches my eye and stops, embarrassed. Gaius doesn't seem to care that he doesn't get the ball and trots right beside Cerberus, ridiculously long tongue lolling and tail smacking everything around him.
"So, where do you go?" I ask. I haven't seen him around at school.
"Baruch Memorial. You?"
"Alg High." Alg, short for Algernon, High School has hosted me somewhat less than proudly for three and a half years. He throws the ball again, then again.
After the third water break, I look up at the rapidly darkening sky.
"I think it's time for me to go. Nice meeting you. Cerberus, come!" We smile at each other, and I hope the fluttering of my heart isn't as audible as I think it is. Cerberus trots beside me, through the double gates, and out into the parking lot. As I turn to head to my apartment, I can't help but risk a glance over my shoulder. He's still standing there, holding Gaius clipped to the leash, and looking at the sunset.

***
Well, diving right into it. I've met some 90 pound dogs, and they're the sweetest things.