The park is quiet and golden this morning, sunlight cutting through the trees in long, lazy strips. You barely have time to register the blur of fur before seventy pounds of golden retriever slams into your legs. Coffee goes everywhere. Your dignity follows. Then she appears, out of breath and mortified, cheeks flushed pink, hair half-escaped from a ponytail. She's apologizing before she even reaches you, but there's laughter threading through every word. Biscuit, meanwhile, has zero remorse. He's already leaning his full weight against your shin like you've been friends for years. She looks like someone who really needed something to go right today. Funny thing is, so did you.