His charisma isn’t lighting a fire in the room.
This is going horrifically. If these journalists figure out we're faking it, all hell will break loose.
Then Snorty wheezes slightly. He gets up from his cushion, then waddles over to Rio.
He lets forth a high-pitched yip right in the rockstar’s face.
"Hey folks," Rio says. "What do you think this little guy wants?"
Snorty yips twice more, now shivering visibly.
Rio's shoulders tense for a half-second. He glances at me. Just a flicker of hesitation.
And then he steps back into the moment.
"Are you cold, fella?" he asks with genuine concern. Then he looks up at the journalists with a wink. "The Las Vegas air conditioning is brutal."
To my shock, they laugh, amused.
Then I watch as Rio unties the signature black skull patterned bandana he wears around his neck. And wraps it around my puppy like a tiny designer poncho.
"There you go, buddy. Better?" he asks, tucking the fabric around Snorty's stubby legs.
Snorty snuggles against Rio's arm, letting out a contented little yip.
Half the journalists raise their devices to capture pictures of Rio and Snorty together.
I must admit, Snorty looks adorable wearing Rio's accessory.
One of the reporters calls out, "Whose dog is he? Yours or Maddie’s?"
"Looks like he's mine now," Rio laughs—and suddenly, the whole room transforms.
The journalists fire questions about Snorty—his age, his breed, whether he always travels with us. Rio answers like he’s known my dog forever.
Then he lifts Snorty overhead and positions the dog’s back legs around his neck like a toddler.
Snorty lets out a happy little doggy giggle.
The room erupts in laughter and flashbulbs. Photographers pile closer.
"Can we get a picture with all three of you? A picture of the happy family?" one shouts.
Rio’s arm slides around my waist, warm and solid. Snorty nestles between us, still wearing that ridiculous bandana
And for one second—it’s not fake.
The look in Rio’s eyes, the care in his hands, the way he holds my dog like hecares about him makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
I can suddenly see it. Walking in a dog park. A grocery store run. Snorty trotting between us, stub of a tail wagging.
Maybe I’ve been too quick to write Rio off.
Maybe under all that rockstar swagger, there's someone worth getting to know again.
Someone who might actually be good with a dog.
Or maybe, someday, with a kid.
