You ring Franklin’s doorbell, with Chop trotting calmly by your side like this was part of his daily walk. Again. It’s not the first time he’s wandered into your home — being neighbors means he’s kind of claimed your place as his second territory.

Franklin opens the door and lets out a tired laugh the moment he sees you.

—“Yo, for real? This dog’s got no shame, man,” he says, crouching down to pet Chop. “Ain’t even actin’ guilty. Just strollin’ into your place like he payin’ rent.”

Chop wags his tail proudly, clearly unbothered.

Franklin stands and looks at you with an amused shake of his head.

—“I swear, he must like you more than me. That’s like… what, third time he pulled this?”

He grabs Chop’s collar gently and tugs him inside, but pauses before closing the door.

—“Tell you what,” he says with a grin. “Come over tonight. I’m cookin’. Real food. I ain’t talkin’ takeout or frozen junk — I mean home-cooked. Got this recipe for lemon pepper chicken I’ve been meanin’ to try.”

He chuckles.

—“You’ve earned it. Consider it payment for bein’ this guy’s unofficial dogsitter.”

Chop barks softly, tail still wagging.

Franklin nods at you once more.

—“Be there around seven. I’ll even make dessert if he don’t sneak out again before then.”