Page 135 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“It was horrible,” Declan said. “The group chat was chaos.”
“Jules almost blew it six times,” Hayes added.
“I did not.”
“You literally sent a photo of dog food to the family chat last week.”
“That was for the goats.”
“Goats don't eat dog food, Jules.”
Jules stuck her tongue out at her brothers and then smiled at her dad. “What are you going to name him?”
“The Fourth.”
All the Kingmans laughed.
I leaned over to Gryff and whispered, “I don't get it. What's so funny?”
“Oh, that's right. We didn't have a dog anymore by the time you moved to Colorado. This is the family's fourth dog, and they've all been named Bear. So this is Bear the Fourth.”
Bear barked, as if agreeing, and then noticed the goats for the first time. Vincent and Holly had wandered into the kitchen, probably looking for food.
The puppy wiggled out of Bridger's arms and went straight for the goats, tail wagging so hard her whole body shook.
Vincent looked at the puppy with great disdain. Holly, however, immediately accepted the invitation for friendship, gently headbutting Bear, who flopped over in submission.
“We have a very weird family,” Bridger said, watching his new puppy follow a goat around his kitchen while his pregnant daughter-in-law directed bacon cooking from a chair and his sons argued about whetherDie Hardwas a Christmas movie.
“The best weird family,” Jules corrected, kissing his cheek.
“Definitely the best,” I agreed, holding my heretical rugby pillow and watching Vincent try to eat the Christmas tree while Holly taught Bear how to steal bacon.
“Family photo time,” Nana announced. “Everyone outside, and bring the zoo.”
We trooped outside to a lovely sunny Christmas Day, because Colorado. All the Kingman boys, Jules, the parentsand grandparents, all the wives, Tempest, me, three goats... Vincent had multiplied somehow. No wait, that was the football equipment reindeer, a donkey, an anaconda, a cat, a wiener dog, a rooster, and one fluffy puppy.
“This is insane.” Bridger called out as Isak set up the timer on his fancy new phone.
The photo showed this enormous happy family, our crazy array of pets, and me and Gryff in the middle of it all, him kissing my temple while I laughed at our goats trying to climb us like a jungle gym.
“Best Christmas ever,” I said to Gryff as we walked back inside.
“Just wait until New Year's,” he said. “Isak's got a bowl game.”
“More football?”
“More family,” he corrected. “Plus football.”
“As long as there's family,” I said, looking back at the chaos behind us, baby bear chasing Holly, Vincent eating decorations, Jules trying to teach Burrito to wear a Santa hat. “I'm in.”
“Forever?” he asked.
“Forever,” I confirmed.
“Good,” he said. “Because I'm pretty sure the goats just ate Flynn's car keys.”
I looked over to see Vincent with a look of indigestion on his face. But also looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.
