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DYLAN
“DADDY, I’M HUNGRY AND BORED,” Lola complains.
She flits into the kitchen, wearing a rainbow-colored tutu paired with a fuchsia shirt adorned with a unicorn on the front. Her long blonde hair, pulled back into a half ponytail and accessorized with a sparkly red bow, sways as she spins to the rhythm of the classical music playing in the background.
I chuckle at her dramatics. “I left a bowl of carrot sticks and blueberries on your craft table.” I nod to the other side of the room. “You can eat those while you wait for dinner.”
It’s no easy feat keeping a highly energetic five-year-old entertained.
“I love blueberries,” she declares.
“I know you do.”
She goes off in search of her snacks, and I turn my focus back to preparing her lunch for school tomorrow. I carefully assemble her lunchbox, filling it with cherry tomatoes, carrot sticks, blueberries, cheddar cheese cubes, hummus, and pita bread cut into the shape of a unicorn. The final touch is a pink sticky note with have a magical day written on it.
After putting the packed lunch in the fridge, I gather the ingredients required to make chicken noodle soup for dinner. The life of a single parent requires juggling a never-ending schedule and a list of to-dos, but I wouldn’t trade my world for anything. I place the carrots and celery on the counter just as Lola’s infectious laughter fills the air. I look up to find her with her face pressed against the sliding glass door, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she surveys the backyard.
“Ladybug, what are you doing? I thought you were hungry.”
“I am, but there’s a dog rolling around in the snow. He’s so cute and fluffy,” she exclaims. “Can I go play with him? Pretty please?” She clasps her hands together.
Aside from her unwavering love for unicorns and rainbows, Lola’s newfound fixation is Bluey, a cartoon dog. While she’s been asking for a dog for the past few months, the addition of an imaginary one in our backyard is a recent development.
“Maybe later.” I take a knife out to chop the vegetables when I hear the unmistakable sound of barking from outside. I step over to the bay window overlooking our backyard, and lo and behold, there’s a medium-sized dog rolling around in the snow with its tongue hanging out.
What the hell is a dog doing in our backyard?
“Isn’t he the cutest dog in the whole wide world?” Lola squeals. “He really wants to play with me.” She’s practically bouncing on her feet with uncontainable anticipation.
“Ladybug, I need you to stay inside. It could be dangerous.”
The dog could have rabies. Its erratic behavior definitely seems abnormal.
“He doesn’t look dangerous,” she states matter-of-factly.
“We’re not taking any chances. Stay inside,” I instruct in a gentle tone as I put on my shoes.
She folds her arms across her chest, pouting as I open the sliding glass door and step outside.
I stride across the deck, and the dog stops its playful antics, turning my way when it hears me. I note its unique combination of one brown and one blue eye and a distinctive tri-colored coat in white, black, and tan. Despite sharing several characteristics of an Australian Shepherd, this dog is smaller and has a long torso, short legs, and ears that are comically large for its body.
As I approach, a woman’s voice grabs my attention.
“Waffles, get back here,” the stranger whisper-shouts. “You can’t go into other people’s yards without an invitation. You’re going to get us into trouble.”
“What the…” I trail off as I spot a woman with long blonde hair in two fishtail braids, straddling the wooden fence running the perimeter of the left side of my property. I can see the top rung of a ladder on the other side that she must have used to climb over.
Her outfit is vibrant and colorful—a bright pink puffer coat, faded floral overalls, and silver sneakers with ribbon laces. She’s most certainly not dressed for a winter in Maine.
“Hi there, new neighbor.” She waves at me with a broad smile, losing her balance in the process.
Shit. She’s going to fall.
I run down the steps of the deck and race toward her just as her hand slips. I open my arms to catch her, but the force of her falling sends me sprawling backward. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I grunt when I make contact with the ground.
“Oh, no,” the woman cries out as she falls awkwardly on my chest with a thud.
