“Speak of the devil,” I said. “I’d know the sound of that ice cream truck anywhere.”

By the time we made it to the parking lot, a gang of dogs was racing toward the pink ice cream truck, their leash-carrying owners hot on their heels.

“Hey, Dad,” I yelled. “Need any help?”

“Hunky dory at this end,” he yelled back as he opened the door. My father, wearing his hot pink Bark & Roll Forever fleece over a matching T-shirt, jumped out, nimble as ever, and swung the backdoor open.

When we caught up to him, he was already pulling out a hot pink carpet runner and some metal poles with thick pink cords attached to them. John and I helped him roll out the carpet, which was sprinkled randomly with black paw prints, so that it created a path to the service window. We set up a row of cords anchored to metal posts on either side of the carpet.

My father ran his hand through his hair. “Just a quick stop here today. The ladies are all booked up at Bark & Roll headquarters for the holiday weekend and want me on poop patrol. I let them know I don’t do doo-doo for just anybody. Truth be told I barely changed a diaper back in the day when you kiddos were knee-high to a grasshopper. And we were blood relatives.”

My dad climbed up on a stool, unlatched the service counter from the side of the truck, pulled it down until it was horizontal to the ground. Then he swung out a stop sign-shaped sign so you could read BARK & ROLL FOREVER from both sides.

“The original letters underneath say DON’T SKID ON A KID,” I whispered to John.

“Smart upgrade,” he whispered back.

My dad climbed into the truck again, leaned out the service window.

He winked at Horatio, threw him a treat. “Homer doesn’t wait in line,” he said in case anyone might have an objection. For some reason, my father had decided to change John’s dog’s name. Horatio didn’t mind answering to both names, and even John appeared to be getting used to it.

“Hold your horses, pooches,” my father said to the rest of the canine crowd. He reached into a basket and grabbed a handful of dog treat cards. “Find someone who can read and has opposable thumbs to untie the ribbon on one of these babies for you, and we’ll be in business.”

Eventually the humans caught up and my dad started handing out cards and treats while he talked up Bark & Roll Forever. He joked. He flirted, no surprise.

An unleashed dog I’d never seen before came out of nowhere. It was so scruffy and scrawny that it looked like it might be related to the beachy little Christmas tree we’d just visited. Horatio yipped with delight, and the two of them started rolling around on the sand-covered parking lot like long-lost littermates.