Alice leans over Ed to place a mug of tea in front of him. As she does, Ed recognizes the visitor. It is cheer. Alice is relaxed and cheerful. Her dark shadow is, for a little while, gone. Buddy stands up and shakes, tap-dances a little. Ed contemplates the tea bag in his mug. Alice sits down, pushes a plate of Pepperidge Farm cookies toward him. She’s still talking about the dog class. She’s repeating herself, going on about Buddy’s cleverness, aptitude.

Ed looks up from his mug and smiles at his wife. She is beautiful.

The dog sits; then, having realized that the people are going to stay put in the same room for a little while, he gets up and goes into the living room to jump up on the couch. Ed dunks his tea bag and then drops it back into the mug. “Buddy, come here.”

The dog bounds into the kitchen, fully ready to take on whatever challenge or treat Ed is thinking of.

“Sit.”

Buddy does.

“What’s the command?”

“Arabella asks for ‘greet.’”

Ed taps Alice’s knee. “Buddy, greet.”

Buddy rests his head on Alice’s knee, raises his eyes to her face. Ed watches—not the dog, but the woman. There it is. The look that has eluded him for seven years. The look on Alice’s face that means she’s moving ahead. Not happiness—neither one of them is allowed that again—but some measure of contentment.

“Good boy.” Ed lifts the dog into his arms and buries his face in his ruff. “Good boy.”

*   *   *

This new work is fun, but certainly not demanding. The woman Alice calls Arabella clearly understands about command and patience. But all of the commands are puppy commands: sit, stay, down. Buddy/Mack executes them in an offhand manner and then looks at Alice for a more challenging set of commands. Then there is something new—well, not new, but a variation on a puppy task. Sit quietly with chin on knee. No sniffing, no licking, no wriggling. The old person they are asking him to do this with gently strokes him on the head. So, big deal. When are they going to let him leap or spin, even climb up the ramp he sees in the corner of the small yard? Buddy/Mack feels like a professional being asked to begin over at the elementary level. He sighs, adds a little variation of his own. One little white paw extends and joins his chin on the old person’s knee. The people around him seemed pleased with that. He lifts his eyes to the face of the old person, sets his ears back in passive greeting. Everyone pets him. “Good boy!” they say.