He nodded. He was so exhausted, suddenly, he couldn’t even wonder whether it was strange that the girl knew this.

“And you thought it might happen here, with your dogs,” she said.

He nodded. There was a long silence. When he felt that too much time was passing, he whispered, “Good girl,” and let go of the bag. It was consumed by the boat’s wake.

The girl looked over the side, and then back to Leland. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “But you’ll make it.”

“Oh. Good night,” he said. As he walked away, he remembered he’d meant to send Nanette off with the finger puppets. Both hands flew to his neck and he looked behind him. “I meant to—”

He was going to explain to the girl what he meant to do, but she was gone.

…

He returned to the cabin, to his living dog, who sniffed at his trousers for sea salt and for the patches where Nanette had wet them. Leland ran his hands over Boy’s head, and tried to get his deep-brown eyes to focus on him.

Abruptly, Boy sat up at attention, and looked at his master, his brow narrowing with something like concern. Then it was gone, the attention dissolving, and a grin appearing in its place.

“You’re a good dog, too,” he said, and then his shoulders started quaking, as he remembered that this one didn’t even know how to sit.

The tears seemed to startle Boy; he stood and began licking Leland’s face. Leland hugged him, and looked into his eyes, which reflected intelligence perhaps, but trust—yes—and emotion. Perhaps his Boy wasn’t the best dog, but that was how life worked, it gave you obstacles. “Can you,” Leland whispered, voice creaking like a half-broken hinge, “can you be good?”

In response, he received full attention, and glimmers of steadfastness, empathy, love, and then the focus broke again, and the dog was sniffing all over the room.

Leland watched him. “Come here,” he whispered. Then he pulled Boy toward him with three fingers in his collar. “I’m so sad, Boy.” Boy’s eyes welled over as if in response. “Really, really sad.” Leland felt it to his core, and Boy dropped down to the deck. Hesitantly, feeling as if he were in a dream, Leland said, “But wait—what if we’re okay? It’s okay, Boy, things are okay.”

Boy leapt up, smile returning. He licked his lips, turned around several times, and dug his teeth into something bothering him on his flank.

Leland watched him, overwhelmed. His whole body tingled with the feeling that he now understood Boy’s odd potential. He pulled the finger puppets out from around his neck. Rubbing his thumb and forefinger along their bodies, he pinned his hopes on the next-best, the dog that would have to do.