The day Watson whispered a secret and gave me a hug

Watson's dad was already on the sidewalk when we turned the corner by Market Place. I smelled Watson before I saw him. He smells like a wire brush and something sweet, maybe a bakery treat, I don't know. But I knew it was him right away.

He's smaller than me. A lot smaller. Doesn't matter. Watson doesn't act small. He walked right up like he owned the sidewalk and put his paws on my shoulder before I even said hi properly. Then he leaned in close to my ear. He whispered something. I don't know what he said. Dogs don't really whisper words, but it felt like a secret, like he was telling me something only I was allowed to know. I stood real still so I wouldn't miss it.

Then he just hugged me. Full paws around my neck, chin resting right there, not moving. I've had dogs jump on me before. Roxie doesn't even do that, she just claims a spot and waits for me to notice her. This was different. This felt like a hello that meant something.

His dad stood there holding the leash with a little green poop bag holder hanging off it, not rushing us at all. That's the best kind of dog dad, the ones who let the sniffing and the hugging happen instead of pulling the leash. Mom does the same thing usually, unless we're already late for something.

We ended up doing the thing twice. First on the corner where the delivery van was parked, then again a few steps later in front of the glass windows of some store I don't know the name of. Second time Watson jumped even higher, ears doing that thing where one goes up and one stays down. I don't think he can control that ear. I like it anyway.

A lady walking by stopped and said