The woman nodded, her anger giving way to a more subdued demeanor. She looked down at her daughter, whose tears had dried into quiet sniffles. “I’m sorry,” she finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I was so scared.”
I nodded, offering a small, empathetic smile. “It’s okay. I understand. If you’d like, you’re welcome to bring your daughter over to play with Rocky when she feels better. He really is great with kids.”
She managed a weak smile in return, the tension between us eased by the mutual understanding. The little girl looked up at her mother, then at Rocky, who was now lying down, his head resting on his paws, watching us with soulful eyes.
