Taboo Times Ten

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Because I was only 10-years-old that summer, and skinny besides, my parents thought I was too young to take the job of dog walker for Mrs. Patterson's big yellow Labrador, Rockford. But with enough childish persistent on my part, and a few tears, they finally relented.

If only to teach me a lesson.

“Amber, that big dog will drag you right down the street,” my father argued, shaking his head. “But, since you insist, we'll let you try it for a couple of days.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I told him brightly. “I'll be fine. You'll see.”

As it worked out, I was more than fine.

And not only did Rockford prove to be an exceptionally well-behaved dog for me, a regular sweetheart of a dog, it was as if he actually fell in love with me. Like, for real love. In a shockingly sexual way.

“I work long hours,” our new neighbor informed me. “So you need to walk Rockford twice each day, once in the morning and again in the afternoon.”

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