Page 57 of Take This Heart
“Yeah, but cotton balls don’t cuddle.” I set the puppy back on the couch and he moves to Dad’s side and curls up.
Dad glances down and his face softens, like he’s not totally immune to this little guy either.
“Well, I guess we’re stuck with him,” he says.
“Yep.”
“Have you named him yet?”
“No,” I say, curling up in the chair across from him. “I thought we could name him together.”
Dad’s quiet for a beat. “What about…Crouton?”
I snort. “Crouton?”
“Yeah. Small…but a vital addition to any salad.”
I pretend to be concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”
He chuckles. “Yes. Admit it, it fits him.”
I look down at the puppy, who’s now flopped dramatically on his back. “Okay, I’ll consider it an option. Any other ideas?”
“Kevin.”
I stare. “Kevin,” I repeat. “That’s as bad as Dylan naming that cute little guy Bill!”
He shrugs. “Kevin.” Like it’s only natural that he’d think of Kevin. “He looks like a Kevin, doesn’t he? He’s got that mischievous twinkle in his eyes like Kevin Bacon did inFootloose.That guy could dance the daylights out of a warehouse and also sings a little bit and likes to hang out with his wife after umpteen years. Seems like a solid name for a solid guy.”
I cackle at this. “Okay,” I say, cracking up again. “Kevin, it is.”
The puppy lifts his head and lets out a tiny sigh like it’s confirmation.
Dad nods, satisfied. “Kevin Whitman, the first of the Whitman puppy line.”
“I like it.” I giggle.
I pick Kevin up and take him back to my chair, where he turns around and around until he finds the perfect spot on my lap before plopping down and falling asleep.
And just like that, Kevin is part of the family.
Grandma Donna walks in. “Oh fer cute!” she says, coming over to pet the puppy. “Whose dog is this?”
“Ours,” Dad says. “His name is Kevin.”
Her smile drops. “Oh fer cryin’ out loud, a dog is the last thing we need around here.”
“But look how happy it makes Dad,” I say, pointing at the dopey grin on my dad’s face.
She looks at Dad and softens. “Well, I s’pose it won’t hurt. Just don’t let him get underfoot—we don’t need any falls ‘round here.”
“Okay, Grandma.” I smile at her and then lift Kevin’s head. He keeps sleeping. “Just look at that face,” I say in a goofy voice.
The doorbell rings a few minutes later. Or at least it feels like it—I’ve been too caught up staring at this adorable little creature.
“Were you expecting someone?” I ask Dad.
He shakes his head.
