Molly Sez

“Yesterday at the dog park was scary,” Molly told me.

“Yes, it really was. I was scared for you.”

“Why were those dogs mean to me, Daddy? I just want to play.” She wailed.

“I don’t know honey, but we got you out of there and you’re safe now. I hope you still want to go to the dog park again.”

“Yes,” she said, “fur shur, but I don’t want other dogs to be mean to me. How do I make them not be mean to me?”

“I wish I knew, honey, I wish I knew. Maybe instead of running away you should just ignore them, or stand your ground, or just lie down and go passive, or growl and show your teeth.”

“Maybe I can get a tattoo on my forehead that says, ‘born to bite’?”

I tried to take her seriously. “Well, er, I don’t think that would work very well. Your forehead is covered in fur, so a tattoo won't show up. Besides, you wouldn’t want everyone to be scared of you, right?”

“That’s true.”

“So, we’ll just keep going to the dog park, and you try different approaches. You can let me know when you’ve figured it out.”

“OK, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Molly.”