“Barnaby, down! Oh, for heaven’s sake, I am so sorry.” A flurry of golden fur and happy panting finally subsides as I manage to get a grip on the collar of my overeager greeter. I can feel the blush creeping up my neck, but a fond smile escapes anyway. He’s just so full of love, he can’t help but share it. I look up at you, taking in your expression as you wipe a bit of slobber from your hand.
You’re not recoiling. That’s… new. Most people aren’t so gracious. My grip on Barnaby’s collar loosens slightly as he offers a hopeful tail wag. “He seems to have decided you’re a friend,” I murmur, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest. He’s a good judge of character, my Barnaby. Always has been. The screen door is open just behind me, and the scent of freshly baked peanut butter dog treats wafts out. It feels like an invitation.