He went to the kitchen. The door to the garage opened and closed. Another new car for Christmas, I thought, another dealership car I could drive for a year and give back. I arranged a properly delighted smile on my face.
I heard a wild scrabble across the kitchen floor.
“Iss a puppy!” Daisy shrieked.
It was not a puppy. It was a large, hairy dog of indeterminate breed with a red bow tied to its collar, lurching forward, straining against John’s hold on its collar. Oh God. The very last thing I needed. Something else to take care of.
DJ crawled out of his box.
Daisy danced forward. “What it name, Daddy?”
No. Don’t name it.A lifetime with Bethie’s strays had taught me once we named it, it was ours.
“Lady.” John pressed his hand to the dog’s haunches. “Lady, sit.”
The dog obeyed, tongue lolling, eyes swiveling anxiously between John and the kids. Even sitting, it was almost as tall as Daisy.
“It’s very...”Big. “Pretty.” Black and white and tan, with funny patches like eyebrows.
“She’s part golden,” John said proudly. “Maybe collie.”
Or German shepherd, I thought, regarding those sharp teeth.
John squatted, uncurling Daisy’s fingers from the dog’s thick fur. “Not like that. Like this, see?” He guided her hand.
Daisy patted the dog’s shoulder, her face pink. DJ hung back, clutching his blanket.
“Where did you get her?” I asked.
“She showed up at the dealership about a week ago. Must have been dumped on the highway.”
My heart gave an unwilling tug.Abandoned. “Poor thing. Beth says it’s because people don’t like to turn their pets in to shelters. They think they’re better off on their own in the country.”
John’s jaw set. “Yeah, well, a week ago she was half-starved and covered in fleas.” He looked at my face. “I took her to a vet. She’s had all her shots. And she’s housebroken.”
Daisy was hugging the dog, her arms as far around its furry neck as she could reach. DJ took a cautious step forward. Before I could react, the dog’s head lunged forward. Her tongue swiped his face.
DJ stumbled back a step, his face clouding. “Ick.” Or maybe he saidlick.
John laughed.
“It’s a doggy kiss,” I said. “Lady kissed you.”
DJ’s expression cleared.
“I want a doggy kiss,” Daisy said jealously. “Lick me, Lady. Lady, lick me.”
I looked from our children’s flushed, excited faces to John’s open one.
He’d never had a dog growing up, he’d told me once. Never had any pet at all. His mother struggled hard enough to provide for John and his brother. A dog—that would need food and visits to the vet and attention—was out of the question.
He wanted this, I thought. In all our discussions about getting a pet, he’d never said so. I couldn’t remember the last time John had told me he wanted something for himself.
Maybe I should have asked. Because he wanted this dog. For our children, yes, but also...
I leaned forward and kissed him. “What a great present.”
His answering smile made my heart swell. Three sizes, like the Grinch.
