That night, I came home from work later than usual. Even before I opened the door, I knew he wasn’t going to make a beeline for me like he always did — we had gone for a run in the park that morning, and for some stupid reason, we had our first disagreement after five happy years of living together.

I went into the kitchen and saw him drinking some water, pretending he hadn't seen me. He looked quite collected, expecting me to say something. But I knew that silence was the calm before the storm, so I thought I'd better prepare for a long cold shoulder. He was trying to make me feel like I was the one to blame, so any effort I made to lighten things up would most likely have gone down the drain.

After quite a while, his silence became uncomfortable. I wanted nothing more than to go back in time and change what had happened that morning so unlike others. I have to admit that I had put him on a pedestal, and that had been the narrative of our life together. I wish I hadn't put my foot in my mouth.

Finally, I decided to take a chance and whispered in his ear, “Would you like to go for a walk in the park?” He quickly leaped up and barked as if to say, “Let’s go!”. I put on his leash, and we headed off to the park together as if nothing had happened. Dogs rule so much, and mine even more so.