Years ago Mike, Molly, and I went camping (before this blog was born, even), and while there we went for a hike. They were both ahead of me, Mike holding Molly's leash, and I took a picture as they walked.
"A boy and his dog," I said to myself, and I thought that'd be a great name for a novel. I filed that working title into my brain folder named "Maybe One Day."
I was reminded of that title, that old picture, that memory this weekend.
Kyle doesn't particularly like dogs, which shocks the hell out of me.
But it actually makes the fact that he likes ours that much sweeter.
And while she'd never, ever, ever admit it, I think she likes him too. Even if only because he feeds her even after I've told him not to.