Esteban and I go to the Renaissance Festival every year. I wouldn’t say we’re die-hard RenFesters, but it has definitely become a tradition over the past 20 years.

Esteban goes for the turkey drumsticks and popovers, which I’ll admit are out of this world. I go to people-watch.

We humans are pretty comical creatures to begin with. But when we stuff ourselves into velvet and leather, adopt pseudo-British accents of varying quality, and add -eth to the ending of every verb, we’re downright hysterical. But it’s all in good fun, and that spirit is contagious.

Today we experienced a first, however: We brought a dog.

It was a cool morning, and Tucker is a friendly beastie. “Why not?” Esteban asked. “It’ll make it tough to navigate the crowds,” I answered, with a tone that suggested “you’d better be prepared to hang onto that leash for hours on end as you juggle turkey drumsticks and popovers and weave through throngs of leather-and-velvet-clad amateur actors.”

I was right about the challenge part, but not in the way I’d expected: As it turns out, Tucker is a people magnet. Everyone wanted to pet him, to know what kind of dog he is, to have their picture taken with him, to give him a big hug or shake his paw. No one seemed to care that at one point he was soaking wet from cooling off in a pond—and a few minutes later, that he was coated in mud from walking around after cooling off in a pond.

Esteban and I felt like we had the biggest attraction on the entire grounds right there, at the end of that leash.

During the drive home, we chatted about our day. We’d both greatly enjoyed the extra interaction with people we otherwise wouldn’t have met. It made the experience much more lively and fun. I told Esteban that we should start a new RenFest tradition. “What’s that?” he asked. “I think we should borrow Tucker and bring him with us every year.”

Huzzah! A new tradition is born. (Pardon the oxymoron.)

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