
Every night, as my daddy taught me, I kneeled by my bed and said my prayers. But tonight, I wanted ask for something.
“Now I lay me down to sleep … I pray the Lord my soul to take. Oh, please bring me a mommy. Amen”
“Come on, Frankie. It’s time to go to the park,” my dad yelled from downstairs.
“I’m coming, Dad.”
Wearing my play clothes, a long purple shirt and black leggings, I slid my feet into my shoes and ran down the stairs. I loved the noise it made, like a herd of elephants, as my dad would say, but I always pictured horses.
One last bang rang out, as I jumped off the last step and landed on my two feet. I turned the corner to see my dad at the door with our two Cane Corso dogs, Dante and Beatrice. Dad named them after some epic poem, whatever that was.
Our dogs were special, though. They were blue, well, they looked grey to me, and their hair was short and thick. I loved running my fingers through it, trying to make it stick up. They came from Italy, some sort of mastiff. I didn’t know, really, all I knew was they were big, real big and strong. But we trained them so well that they listened to all of their commands.
Dad always let me hold Dante, and I held the leash loosely in my hand, while he healed on my left. He’d stay there, following my every move until I gave him the “free dog” command. Our walk to the park was quick and when we got there I could tell the grass had been just cut. The strong smell hit my nose. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not.
“Alright, you all go play, and I’ll be right here on my bench, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I unclicked their leashes and wrapped them around my waist, like belts, and threw the ball for the dogs.

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