When Bailey first arrived on Prospect Avenue, our neighbor Gregory--a writer and furniture maker (good one), a husband and dad (special one)--would have little to do with the black-brown-white fur ball that moved in next door. He'd mumble "Dogs ..." and give the begging boy an obligatory pat while wife Gina fawned over her little "boyfriend" from next door.
Over the past 3-4 weeks, however, Gregory enjoys Bailey's visits more fully, and today, out of nowhere local: "I haven't taken a dog for a walk in years." With that, he grabbed the leash and off they went.
When I walk Bailey along Prospect in the early morning hours, sleep-deprived drivers heading to work slow down just a bit for the two of us (often, we're in the middle of the road). The driver's eyes crack open and almost always a smile appears as they catch a glance. It may be, as Gregory often says, "Bailey's made-for-TV face" or perhaps they're seeing the puppy they once had or wished for.... These wobbly, long-legged, galumphing thiswayandthat... leaf-chasing-rock-eating puppies.