“Daddy, wait for me,” she half-pleaded, half-squealed. She was about three, going on six. Long brown springy curls bounced behind her as she struggled to keep up with her father, five feet in front of her. Her pink coat was wide open and she was tussling with the lid to a bottled beverage. In her small hands, the glass bottle seemed gargantuan.
Her father, too small for the oversized dog he was walking, was struggling just the same. He was playing tug-a-rope with that monster dog’s leash while the dog was tempted by dozens of happy squirrels at sunset in Central Park. He tried to turn his head to watch his daughter, but every time he turned back, the dog tugged and the father was yanked forward.
“Daddy, wait,” she’d start and he’d turn back and then the squirrel-induced dog tug and then he gets tugged forward.
It was a live video stuck on repeat.