Ralph is the largest golden retriever to ever live, and you can’t tell me any different. His head is enormous, his chest the prow of a rowboat, his heart big enough for me to fit inside it. He’s fierce and protective, and despite his size and my fragility, we’re good company for each other. Right now we’re on a walk around the almost-empty new development beside my home. A couple I’ve never seen before wave to us from their front yard.
“Hi!” the woman says — to Ralph, not to me.
I stop. I do this often to catch my breath now. “Do you know Ralph?” I ask.
