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of the girls. Guess that’s my cue
to go be one of the guys.
I grab a beer from the fridge.
“Well, call if you need anything,” I lie.
When I turn, I notice David outside
the window playing with …
A NEW PUPPY
“Hey. No one told me you got
a new pup.” It’s been a few
months since Moxie died, at the ripe
old age of fourteen. Downright
elderly for a German shepherd.
Too quiet around here without
a dog, Mom says. Besides, we
thought it might be good for
the boys to have something
to love and take care of.
Or to dislike and mutilate.
Cynically speaking, of course.
David actually seems
to be enjoying the pup’s
company. I was just a little
younger when Moxie came
to us, all wiggly and yappy.
She grew into a straight-up
incredible dog, and I took
a fair amount of credit for that.
This puppy—Sasha, I’m told—
may be just the thing to bring
David and Donald out of
