Getting off the bus, our feet barely touch the ground as we race to my house. Gramps is sitting on the back porch, Dewey lying at his feet in a ray of sunlight. She jumps at the sound of the door opening, and I immediately get on my hands and knees to give her a good bear hug.

You’re home.

“There she is!” Gramps says. “I told you she’d be coming home soon.”

I missed you!

Dewey’s so excited she leaps off of the porch and runs into the yard through piles of leaves to get her ball.

“I missed you too, Dewey!” I yell, and Macy and I run after her.

Gramps calls from the top step of the porch, “You girls stay out here with her, and I’ll fix us up a little after-school snack—we’ll have it alfresco?”

“Who’s Al Fresco?” I yell back.

Gramps bursts out laughing and swishes his hand at me, saying, “You get me every time!” as he walks back toward the house.

Dewey brings the ball to Macy this time, and she throws it. “You two like to joke around a lot,” she says to me. “It’s nice.”

Dewey runs back and sits between us. We take turns petting her.

“Don’t you have fun with your grandma?” Dewey looks at Macy too, waiting for her response.

“Sometimes.” She shrugs. “But it seems different with your gramps. Like, you two have fun together. Like you’re friends. My sobo is more of a . . . traditional grandma.”

“What’s that like? I don’t have any grandmothers.”

“Well, like she’s always cooking the most amazing foods and leaving little surprise gifts around the house for me, and she teaches me a lot, and helps with homework and school—that’s very important to her.” She emphasizes that last part with her tongue stuck out to the side and wide eyes that she suddenly crosses in toward her nose, like she’s done way too many math problems.

“But,” she continues, “she definitely wouldn’t have helped me rescue a dog, that’s for sure!”

Dewey lifts her head and gives us a big doggy grin. I’m glad I found you first!

“Dewey,” I say. “We’re going to pick out a new name for you!”

She blinks twice.

“What’s she saying?” Macy whispers.

“Nothing.”

I continue. “A new name for a new life,” I tell Dewey. “A fresh start. What do you think?”

I don’t know; will it hurt?

“No, silly, it doesn’t hurt.”

Macy mutters, “Aww.”

“We just think there’s a better name for you, one that fits your personality.” I’m not sure if she knows what personality really means, because she turns her head. “You should have a name that, when you hear it, you know you’re loved.”