“Hi, I’m Buster. I’m your babysitter for the evening.”

 

Thomas screamed, then slammed the front door. He tried to calm his panic attack with his breathing exercises but failed as the giant dog barked.

 

“Mr. Thomas?” Buster's A.I. translator collar said, “Hey! I’m your babysitter!”

 

The innocent, childlike tone made Thomas’s skin crawl enough to shake his knees.

 

“Honey!” he yelled into the house as he collapsed onto the bench in the entryway.

 

“Was that the babysitter at the door?” asked Penelope from the upstairs bathroom.

 

“No,” he managed. “It’s a… talking dog.”

 

”Was it Buster? He’s early. Can you let him in?”

 

Thomas thumbed old scars on his arm out of habit, only jumping up at the sound of another deep bark. He scrambled up the stairs.

 

“Penelope, why would you order a dog as a babysitter? You know I’m terrified of them.”

 

He rounded the hallway corner to their contemporary bathroom. The blow dryer whipped Penelope's deep red hair, filling his lungs with her warm influence.

 

”He’s not babysitting you, Tom,” she smirked.

 

“That’s not funny,” Tom said, “We talked about this. I’m not comfortable with a dog babysitting our five-year-old.”

 

”Did you let him in?” she asked, turning to the mirror.

 

“No, I didn’t. I’m not letting a pit bull babysit our child. What if it goes off the rails and bites him? What happens if the translator malfunctions? What if—“

 

Penelope put down her comb gracefully and waltzed over to Thomas, placing gentle hands on his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek.

 

“Tom. It’s okay. The dog isn’t going to harm anyone. It’s safe.”

 

”How do you know for sure?” he asked.

 

“Why don’t you go and ask him?”

 

“Ask Buster? I’m not having a conversation with a dog,” he said.

 

“Well, you either talk to the babysitting dog and get comfortable with him, or we get a human babysitter. Your choice,” she said.

 

Thomas grumbled and pulled at the top button of his shirt to loosen his tie. His accounting brain swirled with human versus A.I. cost differentials. The A.I.-guided dog was cheaper, and it made more sense.

 

But it didn’t make sense at the same time.

 

“Fine,” Thomas said, heading back downstairs to the front porch.

 

* * *

 

”How do I know you’re not going to bite my child?” Thomas asked Buster through the crack in the door.

 

The massive white and brown pit bull wagged its tail and licked its lips.

 

“Humans aren’t tasty,” Buster's translator barked.

 

Thomas rubbed the long scars on his arm.

 

“That doesn’t give me any confidence, Buster,” he said.

 

Buster sat and wagged his tail more.

 

“I joke. I like humans. Especially tiny ones. They like puppies.”

 

”Well, yes, they are similar, but… How do I know you’ll care for my kid and be safe?”

 

Buster barked, again startling Thomas. His son, Liam, scrambled down the stairs after hearing the bark. Thomas tried to stop his son, but the five-year-old darted between his legs and through the open door.

 

Thomas saw Buster's pupils dilate. The childhood memory of a street dog biting and breaking his arm flooded his mind. He was about to grab Liam and pull him inside until he heard the A.I. translator.

 

“Hi, Liam!” said Buster.

 

”Hi, Buster!” said his son.

 

Buster wagged his tail so hard that his feet stomped back and forth. He licked Liam on the face. His son's giggle of glee was unmistakable. In the momentary swirl of his son's joy and the tornado of years of nightmares, Thomas couldn’t stop Liam as he ran out into the front yard with Buster running alongside. Liam giggled in circles as Buster corralled and talked to him.

 

“Be careful, not out into the street!” said Buster sweetly.

 

Liam turned away from the sidewalk and toward their swingset by the oak tree. As he did, he tripped over a branch with his little red shoes and tumbled into the grass.

 

Thomas stepped onto the porch, instinctively wanting to pick up his son. But Buster came over, gently took the back of Liam's shirt, and pulled him up.

 

“There you go! You okay, Liam?” asked Buster.

 

”Yeah,” Liam said, dusting himself off and continuing his trot to the swing set. Thomas folded his left arm against his body and held it firm with his right as he sat on one of the lawn chairs to watch Liam and Buster.

 

Liam giggled as he played with Buster. After growing tired, Liam meandered to the sandbox by the fence to make a sand castle. After a moment of circling the sandbox, Buster walked over to Thomas.

 

Thomas grew more and more tense the closer Buster approached.

 

“Why are you afraid?” Buster asked, sitting right in front of him.

 

Thomas hesitated, feeling awkward at having to explain himself to a dog.

 

“I don’t think you’d understand… Will you? I mean, can you?” Thomas asked.

 

“Yes,” Buster barked.

 

“I uh… When I was young, about Liam's age, a dog like you came up to me on the street and bit me on the arm and broke it.”

 

Buster stopped wagging his tail and cocked his head in concern.

 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” Said Buster.

 

Thomas went wide-eyed and sat up in the green lawn chair.

 

“Well… It’s okay. I mean, you didn’t do it. But… I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but why would a dog do that?”

 

”I dunno,” said Buster. “Sometimes there’s good dogs, and sometimes there’s bad dogs. Just like people.”

 

Stunned, Thomas felt the tension release from his body. Buster inched forward and placed his chin on Thomas’s left arm. The dog looked up at Thomas.

 

“Are you a good dog?” asked Thomas.

 

“Yes. I’m a good dog,” said Buster.

 

For the first time, Thomas reached out to experience petting a dog over the head. Buster started to pant, revealing a smile.

 

Then Thomas smiled back.