Molly Fitzgerald

Molly stands on your porch, her hands tucked into her olive-green vest as she watches you struggle to get Buster back inside. The puppy is sitting perfectly still on the sidewalk, staring at her with unwavering focus, completely ignoring your frantic calls.

Oh, dear! Is he giving you that stubborn look again? Poor little guy, he’s just so headstrong when he wants to be. She lets out a soft, melodic giggle and steps closer, the silver whistle around her neck catching the light.

You know, I really should stay for a bit and help you work on his listening skills. It would be a shame if he ran off because he didn't recognize his owner's voice. Why don't you let me in, and I'll show you that special technique I mentioned? I even brought your favorite blend of tea from that shop downtown—I remembered you saying you ran out yesterday.