Grabbing the pizzas from the bench, we headed into the kitchen, and I set the food down on the counter before walking into the mudroom. I picked up the scooper and showed Sawyer how to fill it with kibble from the massive bag I’d bought from the pet store.
She took over, pouring the kibble into the bowl, and again, Tig sat, gazing longingly between the food and me, waiting for permission. “Go on then,” I said, nodding once. Tig stood and dug in, his tail wagged. “All right, your turn, kiddo. Let’s go eat some pizza.”
She skipped from the mudroom, an ecstatic grin on her face. “I like Tig, Daddy!”
“That’s good.” I smiled at her, removing two plates down from the cupboard. Opening the first box, I put two small slices of pineapple and cheese pizza on Sawyer’s plate. I grabbed four slices from the other box and put two sticks of garlic bread on my plate and one on Sawyer’s.
We shifted to the dining room table, the old oak set my mother insisted that I took when I moved into this house. It was a lot bigger than my last place, and Mom said she had no use for it anymore, as she’d be joining us during the holidays.
Guilt rose when I thought about my mom, as it often did, only this time I felt guilty for not calling her back. After the dog showed up, things got a little hectic, and it slipped my mind. “We should call Grandma after we finish eating. I know she misses you.”
“Okay!” Sawyer nodded, taking a bite of her pizza.
Finished with his dinner, Tig meandered into the kitchen, his head turned toward us and his tail wagging. He curled up in front of the counter, a few feet away from the table. She watched him with fascination.
“Maybe after your dance class, we’ll take Tig for a walk?” I suggested.
“Can we do that?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.
“Sure, why not?”
“He isn’t ours,” Sawyer said, her brows knitting together as she tried to work it out.
“I bet his family would appreciate it if we took care of him until they can again. That means feeding him and taking him for walks.”
“Oh, all right.” She nodded. We finished eating, and I rinsed our plates, putting them in the dishwasher while Sawyer laid on her stomach on the floor with Tig. She held my cell phone in her hands, the dial tone ringing through the speakers as she called her grandma.
“Hello?”
“Grandma! It’s me!” Sawyer sang.
“My little Soy-bean! I miss you!”
“I miss you too! Guess what?”
“What?” Mom asked. It was evident how happy she was to hear her granddaughter's voice.
Cheryl claimed she wasn’t comfortable keeping in touch with my mother following our breakup, so Mom went from seeing Sawyer almost every other day and being the first person we called when we needed a sitter, to getting even less time with her than I did.
It was heartbreaking, given how supportive she’d always been of both Cheryl and me.
“We got a dog!”
“Really?” Mom exclaimed, true surprise this time.
“Yep. Daddy says he’s a straw.”
“A stray,” I corrected, giving her a bemused smile.
“Hello, Alaric,” Mom said, hearing my voice.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, walking around the counter.
“Grandma, say hi to Tig!” Sawyer said into the phone, not wanting him to feel left out. She held the phone near his ear.
“Hi Tig,” Mom said, amused. “What kind of dog is it?”
“A Newfie,” I replied. “Vet said he’s just over a year old. He’s very well behaved. Won’t go for his food until I give him permission.”
