Page 109 of Wag More Bark Less

“What are you going to carve into your pumpkin?” Maggie asked Opal.

“Wicket!” she announced proudly.

Maggie looked at me. “Should I know who that is?”

“He’s the Ewok that’s Leia’s friend,” Opal explained.

“I didn’t think they had names. Or did I miss that part?”

Her confusion was understandable. We’d attempted to watch Return of the Jedi no less than three times, but disappearing wardrobe resulted in us naked and distracted before Skywalker and his posse even made it to Tatooine to rescue Han from Jabba the Hutt. Last night, with yet another pot of chili simmering in a crockpot, we made it through the movie only because Maggie met me in the shower before the opening sequence rolled.

The cookoff was tomorrow and we still hadn’t cracked the code. My money was on her, secret ingredient or not.

“They don’t name the Ewoks in the movies,” Opal said.

My nerdy side was about to show again. “I have trading cards.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Maggie flashed me an amused smile.

“Did you know Uncle Luke and Dad had a dog named Wicket?” Opal offered.

“When was this?”

I looked at my niece for a beat, but I couldn’t make sense of her tone. She spoke as though she knew Wicket. It wasn’t the first time. But that was no more possible now than any other time she mentioned him, considering the two had never met.

“We had him while we were growing up. He was the best dog.”

Ellie looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if she was simply listening or challenging me.

“Don’t worry, Ellie Belly. You’re the bestest girl now,” Maggie said.

Ellie’s tail swished, and she rested her chin on Opal’s leg.

“We fought over the name,” Connor explained of Wicket.

He’d been quiet most of the ride, as though his mind was somewhere else. Understandable, considering how much his late wife had loved Golden Days. He showed up for Opal every year, shoving down his own pain to make sure his daughter was happy. My brother thought I shouldered a lot, but it was a fraction of what that man carried.

“I wanted the name Kenobi,” I said.

“And I wanted it to be Yoda,” Connor said. “He had the ears for it.”

“But Kira, who hardly took an interest in Star Wars, was obsessed with my trading cards. I barely let her look at them, and I never let her touch them. But when I did let her see them, she was always fixated on Wicket’s card.”

“Because he looks like a teddy bear,” Opal chimed in, giggling.

“She’s not wrong,” Maggie said.

“Because Dad was so done with the two of us arguing over the name, he threatened to let Kira pick it,” I explained.

“For context,” Connor added, “she was six and not the most reliable name-picker.”

“I took out the trading cards she was always begging to see so if it came to that, Star Wars was on the brain. I even let her hold them.”

“So you bribed your sister to pick a Star Wars name?” Maggie asked, laughing. “What if she picked Vader?”

“It would’ve certainly been better than Sparkles the Unicorn,” Connor said.

The trailer turned the corner into the Benson Farms Pumpkin Patch and slowed to a stop. Opal held on to Ellie with both hands until the trailer quit rocking. When Opal stood, she patted her stomach as though just remembering something.