“She does that.”
“She doesn’t usually stop short,” I said.
“No,” agreed my wife, hurrying outside.
I followed and watched Elise corral our dog. Soon, Harlow was sitting, butt wriggling, tail wagging. “What is it?” asked Elise, trying to give Harlow a once-over. “You alright, girl?”
Harlow was strangely tight-lipped. No tongue hanging out. No attempted licking.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“I think…” started Elise, but Harlow could no longer contain herself. She opened her mouth and a frog leapt out onto my wife’s shoulder.
Elise screamed and Harlow bounded after the frog, ever ready to give chase.