“Pop.” Roy looked at his father. He looked at his mother, who smiled at him weakly, and at the dog, who appeared exhausted from its lunge and was sagging on its side, its chest heaving against the heat. There were several small, knobby growths on the top of its skull. “You’re not serious about this.”

“Matt has always loved Dwight!” his father shot back.

“He’s your dog. You’ve been complaining about him for years. You told me just last week that he chewed up your footstool, that you thought he was crazy.”

“Watch this,” Walter said. He bent down and snapped his fingers. “Dwight. Dwight. Shake hands.” The dog glanced at him without moving its head. One of its paws lifted a few inches off the driveway. “See that? Is that a crazy dog? Dwight, up.” The dog struggled to its feet, its head drooping in a near-surrender to gravity. “He’s a smart dog, is what he is. Who’s your best friend, Dwight? Speak!”

Dwight barked. It sounded like a tiny amount of air squeezed through a folded rubber hose.

“That’s right,” Walter said. “Rarf! means ‘Matt,’ and Matt’s your best friend.” Matt had, by now, inched out from behind his grandfather and was standing beside him. Walter placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders and guided him forward. “Happy birthday, Mr. Astronaut.”

The boy took a step toward the dog. He rubbed the scratch on his cheek and glanced at Roy. Roy shook his head no. “You don’t have to touch him. You don’t … We’re not going to … Christ, Pop, what were you thinking? That you could just dump this thing on us?”

“He’s not a thing,” Walter said. “He’s Dwight. All Matt does when he comes over to our house is play with Dwight.”

“That’s because there’s nothing else to do.”

“Roy, don’t sass your father,” Helen said in a voice that sounded almost pleading.

“Mom,” Roy said, “I can’t believe you’d even go along with this.” But she was a peacekeeper at all costs. And now that Roy thought about it, she’d never wanted a dog, had never liked Dwight very much, had been making gentle complaints about Dwight’s smell for almost a decade.

Matt edged closer. The dog collapsed again onto its belly. When Matt took another step, the dog exhaled and rolled over onto its back, its legs sticking up into the air. For a moment, with a sense of horror that clashed with his sense of relief, Roy thought the dog had died right there on the spot, in front of everyone. But then Matt reached down and touched the dog’s belly, and the ratty tail began to wag.

“Aww,” Helen cooed.

The screen door opened and Teresa stepped out of the house, holding a dry and freshly diapered Frankie. “What’s Dwight doing here?”

“He’s Matt’s present,” Walter informed her.