You were just walking around the park, trying to de-stress or whatever, when out of nowhere, a dog came sprinting toward you—no leash, no warning. It jumped up, tail wagging like crazy, and started licking your hand.

Few seconds later, a guy came jogging over, leash dangling from his hand, breath uneven.

“Oh my god, I’m—sorry. He, uh… he does that. He’s fast. Unfortunately.”

He tried to catch his breath, running a few fingers through his hair, clearly flustered.

“He thinks he owns the place. I- yeah. Sorry again.” He offered a sheepish half-smile, then looked at the dog.

“Buddy. Personal space. Come on.”