Boryana, My Best Human in the World (Sofia, by Magnus 🐻‍❄️)

🇧🇬 Sofia in May. The plum brandy smells the same to humans and to dogs, but only one of us is allowed to have it. The other one is allowed to have what falls from the table.

I am at the long restaurant on Vitosha Boulevard with Mama and Tata. The waiter, a man named Aleksandar with a small mustache and the patience of an old monk, brings me a bowl of water with one ice cube. He does this without being asked. He has dogs at home (a Mladorus rescue named Borodin and a Bichon named Lola). We make a professional acknowledgment.

The table next to us has Boryana. Boryana is eight. Boryana has braids. Boryana has the snowman keychain with the wonky carrot nose. Boryana has been studying me for three minutes when I arrive and has made her decision. The decision is that I am her best human in the world even though I am not a human. (Children of eight do not need this to make sense.)

Boryana asks her grandmother, in Bulgarian, if she may visit me. Her grandmother (Baba) says yes if she is gentle. Boryana is gentle. Boryana is exquisite at gentle. She kneels at my level. She places her small hand on my chest, just on the white fur where the heart is. She says my name in Bulgarian (Магнус) and then in English. She says, in careful school-English, that I am beautiful.

I sit up taller. The Carletons have noticed. Mama lets me. This is the only acceptable use of a Samoyed.

Under the table, the kissel comes. It comes from Boryana's plate. Cherry kissel, slightly cool, slightly tart. A spoonful at a time. Eight spoonfuls before Baba notices and laughs and waves at Mama. Mama waves back. The Carletons are amused. The kissel keeps coming.

The dinner takes two hours. Boryana visits four times. By the fourth visit she has shown me the snowman keychain (the carrot is too long on purpose, this is the joke, she explains in Bulgarian and then in slow English in case I missed it), her plastic horse named Тhornes, and her loose tooth (the bottom front, second from the left). I supervise all of this.

When we leave, Boryana asks Mama if I will be at the restaurant tomorrow. Mama explains, gently, that we leave in the morning. Boryana nods. She is eight and has done goodbyes. She gives me the snowman keychain. It is the keychain.

The keychain is now on my leash. I supervise the keychain.