<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/5WGMhX4.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/IgjDnJr.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong><strong>Sara McComb &amp; Pepe</strong><br/><br/><strong>Date:</strong>April 1, 2017<br/><strong>Time:</strong>early afternoon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Joao<br/><strong>Summary:</strong>Making an idiot of herself in the park<br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The race went on further than it should.  Pepe normally was not long on stamina for running, but when Sara saw the flash of a brownish red tail, she got the gist.  The little hussy was leading him on!   She would laugh about that thought later, but as she chugged along, stretching out her stride far more than she ever did when just exercise was the goal, she just wanted Pepe back under control before he was steamrolled by …<br/><br/>She saw it before it happened, but she was too far away to do anything about it.  One of the runners saw the galloping, tongue-lolling courser of love in hot pursuit of God knew what – what exactly would Pepe do with a squirrel if he caught one?  Somehow Sara didn’t think it’d sit still and let him hump its leg, and he wouldn’t even eat chicken breast unless it was cooked well done.<br/><br/>It was amazing the tangents a mind could go off on while disaster unfolded.  Sara couldn’t do anything other than pump along a little faster as the man moved, presumably to secure the leash, just as the squirrel took the opportunity to sabotage her (or his – Pepe was very open minded when it came to love interests – male, female, plant, statue, metal, plushie) pursuer and dodged, running right between the legs of the would-be interloper.  Pepe followed, but his agility had been lessened by the ferocity of the run, and while he wasn’t big enough to bowl the man over, he was easily big enough to trip over, especially when not squashing him was a concern.<br/><br/><em>“Oh, no! <strong> Pepe!</strong>”</em>Of all the useless things she could call out.  But at least the collision, or whatever it was, was enough to stop Pepe, and the man didn’t seem to be hurt … and neither did Pepe, who thought his valiant effort was well rewarded by the consolation prize of an ear scratching.  Sara slowed, and drew in a couple of winded, yet relieved, breaths.<br/><em><br/>“Thank you.  I’m so sorry.  You aren’t hurt are you?  Oh, I feel just terrible.   He got away from me, the little rascal.  Let me help you!” </em>The words all just came tumbling out, both from relief and because her brain – probably following Pepe’s terrible example – was busy processing that the obstacle on the course that he had failed was a very nice looking man, complete with tousled hair and a light beard and mustache, which set her heart thumping about as much as the squirrel had Pepe’s.<br/><br/>Sara abruptly shut up, annoyed with herself for acting like she didn’t have a brain above the waist.  That might not be a quality that was as unique to the male of the species as women liked to think, but it didn’t mean she had to indulge it.<em>“I <strong>am</strong> sorry.  We’re new to the neighborhood.   I guess I haven’t learned all the pitfalls yet.  You’ve already met Pepe, and I’m Sara.  Sara McComb.”</em><br/><br/>If her face was a touch flushed, something that did not go especially well with her red hair, she hoped that he would blame it on the run.<br/>