The Dog Park

Until that minute.

Baxter was running fast, and he was headed right toward the toddler.

3 (#ulink_7f3f01f4-07e4-5306-a08c-f15dd6100efd)

Vinnie, the little jackass, laughed as Baxter ran. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the kid raise his phone.

“No!” I yelled, not at Vinnie but at the dog.

By then Baxter had nearly reached the other side of the street.

“Baxter, no!” I yelled again.

And then he tackled the kid. Absolutely tackled her.

The mother screamed and lunged at her daughter.

A truck whizzed by. “Baxter!” I shouted, sure he was going to be mowed down.

Instead, he stood over the toddler, panting.

I charged after him, yelling his name.

When I got there, the mother was on the ground, cradling her child. The girl was surprisingly dry-eyed, but the mom was crying.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, shoving Baxter out of the way with my leg but grabbing his leash so he couldn’t get too far.

Baxter took a couple steps back, but his panting gaze remained on the toddler. She was a little beauty who was smiling and cooing in her mother’s arms, as if she had no idea the quick turn of events that had just happened.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again. I crouched next to mother and child, careful not to get too close. The mom was young, wearing white jeans and a pink T-shirt.

She looked up at me, tears rimming her blue eyes.

“I truly apologize,” I said. “He’s really a friendly dog, but sometimes he doesn’t know his limits. That’s our fault. My husband says I...”

I shut up. What did it matter what “my husband” (who was no longer my husband) thought about a dog who tackled tots? It didn’t matter that we’d gotten the dog to try and stay together, but had lost each other anyway. And it certainly didn’t matter how many obedience professionals we had contacted about this jumping problem of Baxter’s.

To my surprise, the woman smiled at me. “He saved her,” she said. “Didn’t you see that? He saved my daughter.”

“Good work, Baxter!” I heard from behind me.

I turned to see Vinnie, holding out his cell phone.

“Check this out,” he said. “That truck had no idea.”

“I know,” the mom said.

“The truck?” I said.

Vinnie stopped and looked down at the child and her mom. “She okay?”

The mom nodded vigorously. “Her name is Clara.” She held her kid tighter.

“Check this out.” Vinnie held out his phone—there was a still image of Baxter dashing across the street, his gold-starred collar gleaming and his gold-starred, blue leash blazing behind him.

“He looks like a superdog,” Vinnie said. He fiddled with his phone, then turned it back to us. “Watch this.”

He pushed Play. There was Baxter, dashing, the leash streaming behind him. But at the top of the screen...

“See the truck?” Vinnie said, crouching next to us.

I nodded. A white delivery truck. And it was headed right at Clara, who was taking a wobbly step off the curb. “Oh, my God,” I said.

Just before the truck hit her, Baxter tackled her.

“Your dog saved my daughter,” the mom said. She held out her hand. “I’m Betsy.”

I noticed Vinnie seemed to be videoing again, but I was too relieved to protest.

I shook the mom’s hand. “Jessica.”

“Jessa!” the toddler said in a mumble, mimicking me.

We all laughed.

Betsy, her arms still around Clara, turned to Baxter. “And who is this one?”

“This is Baxter.”

I let go of Baxter’s leash, and he took a few steps toward Betsy and Clara. Betsy kissed him on the top of his head. Baxter licked Clara’s ear.

“Baxter, no,” I said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Betsy said. “In my book, this dog gets to do whatever he wants.”

I looked up at Vinnie. He was still taping our exchange. “Vinnie,” I said. “Enough.”

“Okay, cool.” He put the phone in his pocket. “But I’m putting this online.”

Words, it would turn out, that would change everything.

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The first call came at five o’clock that evening, just eight hours after Sebastian had brought Baxter to my house.

After the incident on the street, Baxter was wiped out. We went home and he slept most of the day. I cleaned the house, returned emails about an Art Institute benefit and read through specs sent by a magazine editor I was working with. It was my first time styling a photo shoot for them. I wanted to do a great job so I could work with her again.

When Baxter finally roused, we took another walk, and I threw a ball in the alley for him.