Chapter 82
Chapter 82
S ister Catalonia took us to a vet in town who checked out the puppy and gave him a few shots. She said he was probably five or six weeks old and wasn’t long for this world when we found him. Another twenty-four hours and he’d have died from exposure and starvation, but from what she could tell, he would recover. TLC, a steady diet of good food, and some medicine and he’d be on the mend. Good as new. Thanks to Summer’s Google-sleuth skills, we then wound our way to Puppy Heaven because she thought he needed a few things. And evidently he did, because in about fifteen minutes we checked out with two hundred fifty dollars’ worth of puppy food, a collar, a leash, and little treats that promised strong bones, nails, and teeth. Loading into the van with Sister Catalonia, who was laughing out loud at the sight of all our bags, Summer said, “Oh, one more thing,” and ran back inside only to reemerge moments later with two little stainless steel bowls, a chew toy, and some more treats that she thought smelled good. That’s when I starting laughing out loud.
Returning to the convent, we had two hurdles. Well, three actually. The third was how to get this little guy back into the United States without any kind of paperwork whatsoever, but since we were flying private, I figured we could hedge that little problem. Worst case, I could slip him into a backpack and escape across the tarmac. Getting him home was the least of my worries. It was the first two I needed some help with.
I found Shep at the water’s edge. He was fishing with Uncle Clay. They were in the process of filling a cooler for tonight’s fish fry under Bones’s watchful eye. When I sat down next to Shep, the shiny, black, mostly sleeping furball in my arms piqued his curiosity. He set his pole down and looked up at me, asking without asking. So I set the puppy in his lap. The puppy, finding another gullible sucker, climbed up, or rather fumbled up, Shep’s chest and immediately began licking his face, which brought the most delightful and innocent giggle out of Shep. At this point, I knew our troubles were over. I just needed Shep to know that. By now, Shep was lying on his back while the puppy licked his face off.
“I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?”
Shep looked at me around the dog, who was now standing on one shoulder nibbling on an ear. “Sir?”
“I was wondering if maybe you’d keep an eye on my little friend here.”
Shep sat up and looked at the puppy, then back at me. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“For how long?”
“Well, see, that’s the thing. I don’t know. I travel a lot and he’s pretty young and going to need a steady buddy. Somebody who’s there all the time. Somebody to feed him. Take him out. Bathe him. Somebody to hang with. You know, be a pal.”
The puppy had circled back and was now licking his nose. Shep nodded. “I can do that.”
“You sure it’s not too much trouble?”
Shep shook his head amid the giggles.
“Well, if you get tired of him, you can just give him back.”
He considered this. “I think I’m okay.”
The knot between these two was getting tied pretty fast. “But.” My voice took on a serious tone. “We have one problem.”
Shep clutched the puppy as if he were afraid someone was going to take him away. “Sir?”
I stroked the little guy’s head. “We can’t go around calling him Puppy. Or Dog. Or whatever. The little guy needs a name. Names matter. It’s one of the most important things ever. So I was thinking maybe you’d like to name him, seeing as how you’ll be taking care of him.”
Shep looked at the puppy, rubbed his head with both hands, then lifted him up and held him eye to eye. Sizing him up. Causing the soon-to-be-named puppy to slobber on his cheek. Shep asked me, “Where’d he come from?”
So I told him the story, starting with Gunner and finding him in the rocks, then taking him to the vet and ending up back here.
“He was all alone?”
I nodded.
Setting him down, Shep looked at Summer, then me. Then Summer again. Then back at me. I could tell he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should. “It’s okay. You can say it.”
He held the puppy inches from his face, then kissed his wrinkled muzzle and tucked him like a football under one arm where he fit perfectly. Finally, he said, “Atlas. I think we should call him Atlas. ’Cause...” He was quiet a minute, then he looked up at me. “Him and me... We were both alone and carrying a lot when you found us.”
I choked back a flood of emotion and wrapped my arm around him. It was perfect. “I like it. It’s a good name.” Shep smiled, and I thought I saw his chest expand an inch or two. Like he’d done something. Which he had. “A really good name.”
After about five minutes of rolling around in the sand, Shep lifted Atlas and said, “Dad?”
The word bounced around my chest, finally coming to rest inside my heart. “Yeah, big guy?”
“If you like”—he paused, finally nodding with certainty—“I can keep him for you.” Another pause. “Forever.”
“I’d like that.” I kissed his forehead. “And I think Atlas would like that a lot.”
When I looked up, Clay was standing over us, his handkerchief wiping his face. He blew his nose, folded the handkerchief, and returned it to his back pocket, all while shaking his head. “Somebody’s cutting some onions up in here.” Summer was in even worse shape while Bones sat smiling, sipping wine, and staring out across Majorca.