The day my daughter graduated

Scout tore across the parking lot. The man stepped back fast and went around the side of the school like he wanted to avoid a scene. I ran after both of them in heels I regretted immediately.

By the time I reached the back of the building, Scout had the man cornered against a brick wall, barking like his career depended on it.

The man had both hands up.

“Hey. Hey. I’m not touching him.”

I grabbed Scout’s leash and pulled him back.