<p>My mom and I got in the habit of going to the dog part after work. We’d pick up Hank, our golden lad, and Chelsea, our Phyllis-Diller-slash-Yoda mutt, and drive across town to a field dedicated to letting dogs frolic with each other.</p>
<p>We’d play with other dogs. We’d through tennis ball after slobbery tennis ball. We got to know the other owners, mostly as “oh, you’re Sandy’s owner”.</p>
<p>And mom and I would talk. We’d walk the perimeter or, on hot days, sit at the lone picnic table under the lone tree and talk.</p>
<p>I was sitting on the table itself, feet on the bench, and she was sitting next to me, when she said, “I think I’m going to get divorced from Jay. Is it alright if I use his reaction to you coming out as the reason?”</p>
<p>She told me how much money she had lost, and how he had changed even before I came out. I think that’s when I realized that she might be a friend as well as a mother.</p>
