We turned the corner.

I stiffened and grabbed at the wall for support. A monster lay in the yard! A reptile a good fifteen feet long with terrible pointed teeth sticking out the sides. It reminded me a little of an alligator, but the short beaked snout and solid elephantine feet set it apart from any water creature. And yes, it had a carapace, like a huge turtle shell. The woman had been speaking literally!

Selma walked up and reached around its mail-scaled neck to fasten the leash. "Mr. Arnold is going to take you for a walk, Kylo," she said sweetly.

I found my voice. "That—that's a—"

"Dinosaur," she agreed. "A medium-sized Ankylosaurus." She handed the end of the leash to me with a somewhat smug quirk of a smile. "Once around the block will do."

My fingers convulsed about the stout handle. "It—that thing is harmless?"

"Certainly. Kylo is a herbivore. Just don't bang against her spines." Had I not known better, I could have sworn there was a gleam of malice in her eye. I realized I should have masked my boredom with her company better.

She returned her attention to the creature. "Come on, Kylo. Get up. Time for your postprandial stroll."

Kylo was obviously not the smartest of pets, but she finally got the message and heaved herself to her feet. The difference was hardly perceptible. There now appeared to be an inch or two of daylight under her ponderous flat belly. She stood about four feet high and slightly more wide. Her six-inch spikes projected from low flanks, about fifteen on a side, forming an impressive barricade. The overlapping scales of head and neck seemed impregnable. Even the tapering tail was armored to the tip. Woe betide the obnoxious mutt that tried to take a chomp of her!

"Come, Kylo," I said somewhat gruffly, bracing myself for the embarrassment of being ignored. To my surprise she came. Once en route, she had a respectable pace: a good three miles an hour. I walked beside her at the limit of the leash, hoping not to encounter anyone who knew me.

We passed the house and turned onto the street. Kylo seemed to know the way, or at least to comprehend that the pavement was for traveling.

Gradually I felt less foolish, because of the bulking mass of the creature I accompanied.

After all, who would laugh at fifteen feet of solid, long-extinct reptile?

A man was polishing his car a few houses down. I fixed my eyes straight forward as if oblivious to my surroundings. But he heard the dinosaur's heavy tread and looked up. He smiled.

"Hello there, Kylo. Stay clear of my roses."

Kylo eyed the roses. "Nuh-uh!" I said sharply. Her nose angled forward again, to my relief.

At the corner an oncoming car braked. The driver leaned out to wave us pedestrians by.

"Corners are hard for Kylo," he explained. "Wouldn't want an accident."

A neighborhood grocery store stood across the street on the back side of the block. The proprietor beckoned. I shrugged and tugged at the leash, and the reptile obligingly ambled across to the store.

The man brought out a cardboard box. "Some of this stuff is getting old," he explained. "It won't keep over the weekend." He drew out a wilted head of lettuce and fed it to Kylo, who took it into her mouth entire and chewed it twice before gulping it down. Half a dozen bruised tomatoes and a soft watermelon went the same way.

"Make sure she gets a few rocks to go along with that," he told me. "She needs them for her digestion."

"She eats rocks?"