So there are two little kids in the apartment neighborhood who are really nice (there are also two little kids above us who are quite the opposite of that, but I'll talk about them in another post I'm sure).
The two kids are brother and sister, and their family is from Mexico. The older sister is pretty good at speaking English, but her 5 year old brother still struggles sometimes.
Yesterday I was out walking the dogs and Ceazer decided he would run away into the hills to cause trouble. After 10 minutes of yelling for him to come down (an all-too-common sound for the neighbors to hear these days, I'm afraid) I caught his collar and quickly hooked his leash on. He knew he was in trouble and we started walking back as he held his head low and his tail tucked between his legs.
As we were crossing the parking lot, the two kids came running over to play with the puppies (one of their favorite things to do each day!).
"Sorry guys," I said. "Ceazer's in trouble. We're going home," I said as I pulled my reluctant furry friend home.
The little boy looked up at me, wide-eyed and with complete seriousness, as he asked in worried disbelief:
"Are you going to KILL him???"
His older sister laughed, popped him in the head for even thinking such a thing, and I reassured him that Ceazer was only losing his play time. Not his life.
I laughed the rest of the walk home.
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