Love Is Pink! by Roxann Hill Page A

black dog stood growling. His blood-shot eyes glowed in the moonlight. His lips were pulled back to show us his white fangs.
    “That monster almost got me,” David panted.
    “Hello, doggy!” Emma called, waving to the beast. “Why doesn’t he come to us?”
    I moved closer to the gap to get a better view.
    “He can’t,” I said. “It’s a junkyard dog. His chain is just long enough to reach the end of the property. He can’t get us if we stay outside.”
    “As you may recall,” David said, sounding annoyed, “we can’t stay out here. We need to get in there and past the monster, so we can get the car, so that a certain someone—and I won’t mention any names—can have the pleasure of dining and dashing at her ex’s expense.”
    “Ha!” I yelled, turning to face him. “Enough with the ex! I explained in detail yesterday that it’s all going to work out!”
    “And you still believe that this morning?” he said.
    “Yes, I do!”
    We went back and forth for a few moments, so busy arguing that we forgot about Emma. When I finally looked for her again, I couldn’t see her.
    “Emma?” I called out.
    “In here!” Her voice came from behind me, inside the lot. I swung around and saw her approaching the dog.
    “Oh, my God,” I said. Without thinking, I squeezed through the gap myself and ran toward her.
    The growling grew louder. I wouldn’t reach her in time. In my head, I already saw the dog tearing Emma to pieces.
    No! I couldn’t allow that to happen!
    And since I couldn’t think of anything better, I simply screamed as loud as I could, “Sit! Now! Sit!”
    The dog looked at me thoughtfully and sat.
    Emma turned to me. “Look, Michelle! This dog is so sweet.”
    “He’s not sweet!” I whispered. “He’ll eat you if you get any closer. Do. Not. Move.”
    Emma put her hands on her hips. “Oh, you and your funny jokes!” She turned back to the dog and, too quickly for me to stop her, moved forward and began to pet him.
    This time he would not spare her. This time he’d tear her to shreds.
    But the dog whimpered.
    Carefully, I stepped closer, grabbed Emma by the arm and pulled her out of the danger zone as quickly as possible.
    The dog cocked his head, whined again, and raised his right paw.
    “He’s sad and lonely,” Emma said. “Just like you were the first time I met you.”
    Naturally, I found this infantile comparison absolutely inappropriate. But looking at the dog a little more closely, I noticed that he really didn’t look happy. In truth, he looked pitiful. I knelt down and tentatively began to pet his scruffy fur. He leaned into my hand. After a few moments, I let Emma pet him, too.
    The dog grunted and wagged his tail.
    “Hey! Are you crazy?” David called. He’d entered the yard now, too, and looked torn as to whether he should rush over to save us or keep his distance.
    “There’s no problem here,” I said. “We’re all getting along marvelously. You get the car, and once you have, Emma will slip back out into the street and open the gate.”
    David walked stiffly past us, careful not to make any eye contact with the dog. Once I heard him open the car door, I sent Emma outside. I stayed behind with the black junkyard dog.
    “You’re ugly,” I told the canine.
    He wagged his tail and raised his right paw, swinging it in my direction.
    “You’re also huge!”
    He wagged his tail even harder.
    “Not to mention, you stink. And if you’re as sad as Emma thinks you are, I have to tell you—unfortunately, I can’t help you out.” I moved my head closer to his and whispered, “You’ve got to understand. I can barely even help myself.” The dog whimpered softly. I could see the fur underneath his spiked collar. It was matted and rubbed away in spots. It looked painful.
    The gate opened. David drove through and braked right outside the yard. I gave the dog a farewell pat on his big head, stood up, and went to the car without looking back.
    Emma had just gotten