Brenda often stopped by the dog park after work; even after the passing of her beloved Shiba Inu. She kept the habit alive with her regular visits. The bench on the right was always vacant upon her arrival, as if waiting for her return. Brenda would watch the owners play, run, and praise their canine counterparts.
A Frisbee flew, landing gracefully at her feet. A male Shiba ran to her side and wagged his curl of a tail.
Brenda smiled and asked him, “Is this yours?” She picked it up and gave it a toss. The Shiba sprinted, dashing after the elusive disk.
“Sorry about that,” a breathless man said, leaning on the bench. “Don’t know my own strength.”
Brenda smiled politely, looking over at the man’s dog. “Shiba?”
“Yep, Carry’s his name.”
“Carry?”
“Yeah, oh, mind if I?” He motioned to the empty side.
She nodded.
He continued, “yeah, sounds strange. Most people think I named him after a celeb.”
“So his first name isn’t Jim or Drew?” She chuckled, turning slightly red.
“Nah,” he smiled. “Let’s just say, he carries more than just his own weight.”
Brenda watched the dog return to his master. The man leaned down and rubbed his head. “Good boy!”
“Say, where’s your lucky pup?” He asked.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” She pretended to look for her Shiba, painfully aware he was no where to be seen.
“Name’s Jim by the way.”
“Brenda.”
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