As I was walking to French class one Thursday morning, I saw a handsome beagle by the quad. Naturally, I assumed it was ‘Hugs and Pups,’ the mom-led cohort that spreads positivity and puppies around campus. 

But as I approached, the tone immediately seemed off. There were no eager moms in sight, but rather a tall man with a top hat and a stern expression, surrounded by smaller men. I went to pet the friendly-looking beagle, but the tall man stopped me. 

“Hello Miss, how is this Thursday morning suiting you?”

“Oh, very well, thank you. Are you guys with Hugs and Pups?”

“No. But, you may shake my hand and I will tell you the reality that you young folk cannot face by yourselves. My name is Arthur Stern and this is ‘Handshakes and Reality.’”

“What happened to the other group? They were nice.”

“They were leading people down a false path,” Stern said. “And they irked me. In reality, there are no friendly moms or golden retrievers: there is just despair and addiction. Be wary of your surroundings at all times. You never know when the weirdos will strike.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I faltered. 

Stern did have a point. Sometimes it seemed like people glossed over terrible events and mental health struggles on campus. Does forcing a smile really help anything? I hesitantly accepted his outstretched hand.

The crowd of smaller men approached like a school of minnows, and I quickly began shaking their hands too.

“First reality check: that was a weak handshake,” Stern said. “Second reality check: that ‘embracing canines’ group is not preparing you for the outside world. It’s merely trying to distract you from the reality of life.”

“But reality can be exhausting. Can’t optimism be effective too? ” I shot back. 

“Let me tell you a story, and then you will finally understand,” he sighed. “On my way to check out an encyclopedia at the Undergraduate Library, a stray frisbee hit me in the back of my head. As I nearly bled out, I called out to the ‘pooch mother’ group for help, but they were too distracted by fur and endorphins to notice me.”

Stern glanced at his followers and they all linked arms. 

“We therefore decreed our stance,” the men chanted. “Relentless positivity distracts from suffering, candy rots teeth, puppies waste time, hugs spread disease and stickers are annoying and non-biodegradable.”

“I see,” I then tried changing the subject, “Well, if you hate dogs so much, why do you have one?” 

“My beagle is handsome and well-mannered. He draws people in to allow them a few efficient pets before I open their eyes to reality,” Stern paused, then relented, “and, well, I must admit, the tactics of the ‘Hugs and Pups’ were somewhat effective. I was often tempted to say hello to that majestic Great Dane of theirs.”

“I always find dogs to be a unifying subject.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” He bent down to pet his beagle and I saw him smile for the first time. 

I took the opportunity to withdraw myself. “Well, goodbye, Mr. Stern.”

“Aww, who’s the cutest beagle in the world?”

I just left him to it.