The Dog Who Saved My Summer

Summer before sophomore year, my mom decided I needed a glow-up. That meant daily vitamins that smelled like strawberry guilt and a new skincare routine with orange extract that made my face burn. Meanwhile, I was stuck walking Mrs. Henderson's dog—this massive, slobbering beast who hated me.

Buster was supposed to be a golden retriever, but he looked more like a dusty rug that someone spilled orange juice on. Every day at 4 PM, I'd drag myself down the street, dreading the chaos. Buster would pull, I'd trip, and the neighborhood kids would definitely be watching from behind curtains, judging.

Then came the day Kai from my English class actually saw the disaster unfold. Buster spotted a squirrel, bolted, and I face-planted right in front of him.

"Need help?" he asked, all chill and golden-hour perfect.

Somehow, that humiliating moment turned into us sitting on the curb sharing an orange soda he'd bought from the corner store. Buster calmed down enough to let me pet him, his coarse fur surprisingly comforting against my anxious hands.

"He's not so bad," Kai said, scratching behind Buster's ears. "Pretty chill dog once you know him."

"Yeah," I admitted. "I'm just not a dog person."

"You're more of a vitamin person, huh?" Kai joked, nodding at my backpack where the bottle clinked.

I laughed. For real.

Every day after that, Kai started meeting us. Sometimes with orange soda, sometimes just to talk. We discovered we both liked the same obscure indie band and hated how everyone at school was trying so hard to be aesthetic.

The vitamins stopped feeling like a chore. The dog stopped being embarrassing. And the orange sunset walks became the highlight of my day instead of the thing I survived.

Some glow-up, I thought. But somehow, this was better than the one my mom had planned.

When school started, Kai and I sat together at lunch. And I still walked Buster every afternoon—now with someone who made the slobbery, chaotic journey something I actually looked forward to.

Funny how the things you dread can become exactly what you need.