She nuzzles her head under my chin and lets out the tiniest happy whimper. I think I would like that very much.

“Does that mean she likes the idea?” Macy asks.

Dewey barks, using her full voice, and licks Macy’s hand. I don’t need to translate what that means.

Gramps comes out with a plate of PB&J triangles and Dewey’s favorite: animal crackers. Dewey races toward him and he throws her an animal cracker, which she catches midair. The four of us sit around the patio table, taking bites of PB&J, trying to think of some good names.

“Bella?” Gramps suggests.

“Lucy?” Macy says. “No. How about Daisy?”

“No,” I say. “She’s not quite a Daisy.”

“Freckles,” Gramps says, “because of her spots?”

Macy shakes her head and makes a face.

“Blue—because of her one blue eye?” Macy tries.

“Priscilla?”

“She just doesn’t act like a Priscilla, though.”

“Parker? Marley?”

I shake my head.

“Luna!” Gramps offers.

I look at Dewey. Luna?

She sneezes.

“I don’t think she likes that one.”

“Nora?” he tries again. “Or Dora?”

She sneezes twice.

“Lizzie!” Macy shouts. “Cocoa?”

Before I can veto of any those suggestions, the doorbell rings from inside the house. We all freeze. I look at Gramps. “Sit tight, I’ll go check.” Gramps stands from his chair and goes to open the back door, sticking his head out to say, “I’ll give a signal if you need to hide—the Dog Formerly Known as Dewey.”

We try to see through the window, but it’s hard to get a clear view of the door from this angle outside. Dewey paces back and forth.

I can hear Gramps talking, and then there’s another voice that I kind of recognize.

“I can’t tell who it is,” I whisper.

Macy gasps. “I can!”

Gramps opens the door, and Macy’s grandmother steps out onto the deck with a big smile. “Surprise.” She’s carrying a plate of something covered in what looks like many layers of plastic wrap.

“Sobo, what are you doing here?” Macy asks.

“I decided I would walk over to pick you up.” Then she leans into Gramps and whispers, “I wanted to make sure my Mieko—Macy—is not wearing out her welcome.”

“Never,” Gramps says.

“Oh, good,” she coos. “I brought treats, just in case. Here,” she says, pulling off the plastic. She passes the plate to Gramps, and his eyes brighten.

“Sobo,” Macy says gently, but I can tell by her bright pink cheeks that she’s mortified. “You didn’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupts, but then catches sight of Dewey. “And who is this?”

Gramps intervenes. “This is our new dog. We’re still thinking of names, but she came with the name Dewey.”

Macy’s grandma purses her lips as she looks at Dewey, and then shakes her head, saying, “No, you are right. That is not her name.”