“It’s hard, I imagine,” David said.
“That was how come I’ve been talking about getting a dog, maybe—adopting one here and taking it home with us when we leave. Not a puppy, though; a grown dog. I’m not sure we could deal with a puppy, at this stage. But if you and Mom have any objection, we’ll just wait till we’re back in New York.”
“It’s fine with me,” David said. “Greta?” he asked as she re-entered the room. “Would you be okay with having a dog in the house?”
“Yes, of course,” Greta said, and she sank onto the couch with a sigh. Probably she felt as tired as he did. Children took so much energy! But it was a pleasant kind of tiredness. That night, David slept better than he had in some time.
* * *
—
The dog that Nicholas’s friend Julie arrived with, a couple of days later, was a sand-colored, short-haired mutt with one floppy ear and one upright one, which gave him a sort of quizzical look. He bounded out of her car and rushed up the front walk toward the house, where everybody stood waiting, since Julie, of course, would not be coming inside. “Wait up, boy! Slow down, boy!” she called after him, but he paid no attention and instead headed straight for Benny in a purposeful manner. Benny shrank back slightly but held his ground, and the dog stopped in front of him and sat down, panting and grinning, till Benny reached out and gave his nose a tentative pat with just the tips of his fingers.
“Did you tell the dog ahead of time it was a kid who’d be adopting him?” Nicholas asked Julie, and she said, “No, but I think he was hoping.”
She was one of those young women without any airs, curly-haired and sturdy in Levi’s and a tank top. A bandanna-print mask covered the lower half of her face, but David could tell by her eyes that she was smiling. “I’ve just been calling him ‘boy,’？” she told Benny, “so you’ll have to come up with a name for him.” And then, to Nicholas, “How you been, Nick?”
“Pretty good. And you?”
“Oh, hanging in there.”
“You remember my parents, Greta and David,” Nicholas said. “And this, of course, is Benny. Julie Drumm,” he reminded his family.
“Hi there,” Julie said. Since all the Garretts wore masks as well, she couldn’t have seen any more of them than they could see of her, but she gave them a friendly wave. “Looks to me like we’ve got a match, am I right?” and she tilted her head toward Benny and the dog.
“Yes, I’d say so,” Nicholas said. “You like him, Ben?”
“I love him!” Benny said.
So Nicholas followed Julie down to her car for the supplies she’d brought, while Benny ventured to stroke the top of the dog’s head. “What name will you give him?” Greta asked.
“I’m not sure,” Benny said.
“I had a dog named Cap, once,” David offered helpfully.
Benny gave him a pitying look. （He had tugged his mask below his chin the very instant Julie left them, so that he seemed to be wearing a little candy-stripe Amish beard.） “No,” he said at last, “his name is John.”
“John. Okay.”
And when Nicholas returned, hugging a giant bag of dog chow and clutching a coiled leash, Benny said, “Meet John, Daddy!”
“How do you do, John,” Nicholas said. And they all went into the house.
* * *
—
It didn’t take long for them to settle into a routine. The first one up in the morning was Nicholas. David and Greta would come downstairs to find the study door closed and Nicholas murmuring behind it, probably talking to Juana, who often called very early. David would let the dog out to pee in the backyard and then feed him, after which he and Greta had breakfast. They learned not to bother offering Nicholas any breakfast; he would subsist till lunchtime on the pot of coffee he’d brewed. The last to rise was Benny. He would tumble downstairs at nine or so, calling, “John? John?” which suggested he might have stayed in bed even later if not for the lure of the dog. John, who’d clearly been just making do with David and Greta, would prick up his one erect ear and race to the bottom of the stairs to make joyful snuffling sounds while Benny hugged him. Then Greta tried to wheedle Benny into eating something, although he was far more interested in trying to place a call to his mother. （The first of many calls, every day; they had her on speed dial now, although she wasn’t always free to answer.） After that, while Greta busied herself around the house, David would spend his biggest block of dedicated time with Benny. They would go out to the garden and pull a few weeds, empty the wading pool from yesterday and refill it, and then start the drip hose in the garden and take John for his walk. David, remembering his years with Cap, assumed John should walk glued to Benny’s left side. However, John had his own ideas. His leash was the retractable kind that gave him a lot of leeway, and he frequently lagged behind when he came upon some intriguing smell or raced ahead when a squirrel crossed his path. Otherwise, though, he trotted along docilely enough, and David gave up trying to make him heel.