“No,” Roy said. “He’s not. He’s visiting, and he’s going home with Grandma and Grandpop.”

“I want to keep him.” Matt’s voice sounded small and younger than it usually did. It sounded like Joseph’s. He was rubbing Dwight’s belly vigorously and the dog’s tail was sweeping the driveway.

Roy watched Teresa’s face go from confusion to refusal, and finally twist into a hesitant surrender. She caught Roy’s eye and the look she gave him said, What choice do we have?

Roy turned to his father. “You think I’m doing a decent job here? You think I’m rising to the occasion? We’re not taking this wreck of an animal off your hands.”

He knew instantly that his wording had been too strong for everyone but his father. Walter’s arms were swelling beneath the sleeves of his polo shirt, his legs were hardening inside his golf pants; he was ready for any confrontation. But it didn’t matter, because the issue didn’t reside between Roy and his father anymore. Helen was aww-ing, and Katherine had joined in the rubbing of the dog’s belly. Most dire, Teresa’s focus had shifted to the smile on Matt’s face. “Well, birthday boy,” she said, “looks like you’ve found a new friend.”

“They’ve always been friends,” Walter emphasized. “Dog is man’s best friend, and Dwight is Matt’s best friend. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that.”

Roy closed his eyes.

Dwight walked the perimeter of the backyard, following the fence and sniffing the ground and lifting a trembling hind leg every few feet. Matt watched Dwight with an increasing calmness and, Teresa thought, a growing sense of ownership. They’d never had a dog; she and Roy had never wanted to bring one into an apartment, either because an additional pet deposit would have been required or because they’d feared that a dog might damage a rug or a piece of furniture that wasn’t theirs. Now they were homeowners. She knew Dwight was old and cranky, but she’d inspected the scratch on Matt’s face and found that the skin wasn’t broken and the line was already fading. The boy clearly wanted the dog. Her in-laws had contributed to the down payment on the house. How could they refuse?

“What about this?” Roy suggested, reading her mind, standing over the grill with a spatula in his hand. “You guys keep Dwight, who’s got one paw in the grave, and we go out and buy a puppy.”

“Oh, it’s a nightmare to train a puppy,” Helen said from one of the lawn chairs. “This breed, in particular. They’re so stubborn and aggressive.”

“I didn’t say we’d get a cocker, Mom.”