With the catchy tune playing, the dog’s motions suddenly take on a meaning. Jen is right: This dog is dancing. Alice takes him through certain moves that she has inadvertently discovered, then tries a couple more purely invented signals to see if something else will happen. At first, nothing does; the dog stops. She tries again, and suddenly he’s backing up, then pivoting on his rear legs in a perfect circle. He stops, waits for more from Alice. She waves at him. He comes forward, but on his forearms, his rear end up in the air, his tail waving like a pennant in the breeze. When everyone applauds, the dog tucks one forepaw under his chest, dipping his head in a perfect courtly bow.

“Do it again, Alice. See if you can get it smoother. Derek, are you getting the video?” Jen starts shoving the deck furniture out of the shot. Someone flips on the floodlights against the growing dark.

Alice waits for the music to start. “Ready, Buddy?” She flips her hand over and Buddy repeats his first moves. For half a minute, they perform a dance routine, the dog contributing several movements ad lib. At the end, the people all laugh and clap and the dog barks and barks, clearly pleased with himself. Derek has caught it on his new iPhone with its multitude of apps.

Jen and Derek leave around nine, the good-bye hugs maybe just a little tighter, a little longer than a casual dinner among friends might suggest. Ed and Alice stand on the front steps, waving them off. Ed drapes an arm around Alice, squeezes her shoulder gently. She doesn’t pull away but releases a soft sigh. Buddy/Mack pushes his way between them, fitting himself against their legs. They stand that way, the three of them, long after the porch light next door shuts off.

*   *   *

The three of them sit at the kitchen table, a small cake laden with sixteen candles glowing in the dimmed dining room light. Stacy stares at those candles as if hypnotized. “Make a wish, honey.” Ed has the video camera pointed at her and they wait for the moment when Stacy will make a wish and blow out the fifteen candles, plus one for good luck.

Stacy looks up from her trance and points at Ed, who’s holding the camera. “Don’t.”

Ed reluctantly lowers the video camera.

Stacy sweeps her hair into her fist and leans toward the candles. When she is done blowing, one candle remains lighted. She reaches over and snuffs it out between pinched fingers.

*   *   *

Buddy/Mack lies on the deck, his position sphinxlike, his attention on the distant sound of a woodpecker hammering a tree. He’d like to see a squirrel to chase. He’d be off the deck in a split second, in full voice, and catch it. He always expects to catch the squirrels he chases. That’s his dream.