A lesson in innocence

The footfalls, a child's hurried pace, were ignored.
I was on the phone, the evening having reached the magic hour where my minutes were free - and it was late afternoon in Cali. There were conversations that needed updating.
The girls strained at the leads - Trinity in front, turning her head and meandering, Scully in a hurried pace, even for her - and their undulations made it hard to hold the phone and talk.
"Sir? Sir? Can my little girl pet your dogs?"
I excused my phone caller and pockted the mobile.
"Sure."
The girl was dressed in a blue gingham dress; her curly hair was the color of cornsilk; big blue eyes peered back at me. She had an index finger in her mouth, pensive now that she'd caught up and almost didn't know what to make of the experience.
Trin, of course, liked that the girl's face was within easy licking distance. She tugged at the lead, wanting the attention. The girl didn't know what to make of this spring-loaded dog that whined her happy talk and put a brushy tail in her face.
"Here, Scully is a much better dog to pet for little girls," I said, comanding Trin to sit and let Scully walk up to her.
"So soft!"
Scully sat as the girl hugged her head.
"She saw your dogs all the way at the park," the mom said. "Thanks for stopping."