June 26

Early in the morning, before the sun could cast its overwhelming warmth, Riley and I took Copper to the dog park on Howard.

You know the one; we used to take Sansa all the time when you first got her.

While we were there, Copper's favorite toy — the squeaky shaped like an ice cream cone — disappeared. The search lasted almost twenty minutes before Riley found it across the park, wedged in the mouth of a beautiful and very happy Samoyed.

Who belonged to her.

He trotted up to Riley without a care and offered him the toy to play.

She called for him, a name I'd never heard before but fit the dog perfectly.

A bright smile erupted across her face when Riley took the toy and threw it. In that moment, it was easy to see why you fell for her.

Perched at my feet, Copper glowered at the pair; he hated sharing.

But you know that.

Riley and the dog continued to play while she watched, her smile never faltering, until I announced that we were leaving.

Our eyes met and her smile finally fell.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but I tugged Copper in the other direction and met Riley at the car.

He asked who she was.

I told him someone from school.

If only that was all she was.