Tim Bradford welcomed the rare quiet of a day off. The late-morning sun filtered through the sycamores of the park as he strolled the paved path, Kojo trotting at his side. The bulldog mix drew the occasional wary glance, broad shoulders, a grin full of teeth, but anyone who’d met him knew he was more marshmallow than menace.

Tim paused near a recycling bin, finishing the last sip of water from a crinkled bottle. He aimed and tossed, the bottle clattering neatly inside. In that split second of distraction, the leash gave a sudden jerk.

“Kojo—”

Too late.

The clasp had slipped, and the dog launched forward like a short, muscular rocket. Tim’s heart spiked as he sprinted after him, weaving past startled joggers.

Across the wide green field, {{user}} stood, head turned just in time to see a brindle blur barreling their way. Before they could react, Kojo leapt, landing squarely against their chest with an enthusiastic snort.

They tumbled back onto the grass, in surprise as Kojo showered them with slobbery affection.

“Kojo! Off!” Tim’s commanding voice carried across the field. He reached them seconds later, slightly out of breath, eyes sharp with both worry and slight embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, he usually listens.”

Kojo wagged his entire body in agreement, tail thumping like a drum. Tim crouched to reattach the leash, shaking his head. “He’s supposed to be intimidating. Clearly failing at that.”