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September 14th, 2010

Today after dropping a substantial percentage of the most recent paycheck at Petsmart, as I was leaving a lovely, tall, elegant black woman was leaving with her "just-groomed" puppy, complete with little bandana. I looked down at the enthusiastic, wiggly sweetie and couldn't help but smile. I looked up at her and said, "How adorable? How old?"

It took her a moment to thaw--I don't expect she's often addressed in a friendly way by suburban-looking white women, especially not about her dog. She then visibly relaxed and said, "Six weeks! Can you believe it?" She scooped the little boy puppy up and held him so he could sniff me and I could let him give me little puppy kisses on my hand. "Oh, he's wonderful. What a sweetheart!"

"Yes. He's my little lover boy, and that's how I'm going to raise him." There was strength, and conviction in her voice. And maybe anger? And maybe fear she wouldn't be able to keep her promise?

He was a beautiful little white pit bull puppy, with just some small bits of black here and there. Gentle, and sweet. As they are if they're raised with love and kindness. Clearly already devoted to his mistress.

I hope she is able to keep him hers. Keep him safe.

What a sweet little dog.