Karen sat on a wooden park bench. Her knee still hurt from a fall yesterday. The sun was shining. The bench faced north.
A man with a name walked up and sat down. Nice day, he said. The man had a dog. It was small, it was cute. It licked Karen’s knee on the place where she fell.
No, Scruffs, bad dog, said the man with a name. It’s okay, Karen said. He sure is cute. He looks like a Scruffs.
Yes he does, said the man. Just me and Scruffs today. My other dog’s at home.
Does Scruffs bite, Karen asked.
No, said the man with a name and he laughed. Chews up my shoes, but he doesn’t bite.
Scruffs licked Karen’s hand and the man with a name said, Scraps is at home. My other dog, Scraps. I usually bring both but Scraps was asleep. Couldn’t wake him up so I just brought Scruffs.
Karen petted the dog. She stroked its ears. I think he likes you, said the man with a name. I bet Scraps would too. Shame he’s not here.
He’s asleep? Karen asked.
The man with a name said, yeah, at home. Would you like to meet Scraps?
Gee…Karen said. I dunno…
He’s a real friendly dog, said the man with a name. Even cuter than Scruffs.
Is it very far?
No, he said. Not far at all.
They walked a block east and one block south. The building was brick and had lots of apartments.
We’re here, said the man and he opened the door. Karen walked in. She looked around. The room was empty except for a cot.
His face was red. She screamed in the pillow. Scruffs watched for a while and then went to sleep.
The walls were white. The cot faced south.
Karen was nine.
What color was Scruffs.