She gently swatted them away, snickering the whole time. “Look, Gina! I can fit his whole head in my mouth!”
“Impressive. Just don’t bite down, okay?”
Only one of the puppies—the fattest one—took me up on the food. The rest were wrestling with each other or Daisy. A couple came over and sat on my lap.
When I heard the front door open, I glanced at the hallway. A second later, Jacob appeared.
“What the heck?” he asked, his blue eyes wide as he took in the scene.
“Jacob! Jacob! Jacob!” Daisy yelled as she scrambled to her feet and hurried over to the gate. “Jacob’s home! Yay! I love Jacob!”
He bent over and pet Daisy while I set the puppies aside. I stood and walked over to hug my son while considering if mid-forties was too old to sit on the kitchen floor for long lengths of time, or if I was just horribly out of shape. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Me too, Mom,” he said. “What’s with all the puppies?”
After explaining the phone call and trek to the Tupper farm in the early morning hours over the din of puppy’s barking and whining, I said, “Let’s go into the living room so I can hear myself think.”
I stepped over the gate. “Daisy, you’re in charge here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Don’t leave me with the monsters!” she wailed.
“Like she can understand a word you say,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes.
Little did he know. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to,” I replied.
“You need a boyfriend, Mom. It’s not good for you to be talking to dogs all day.”
Really, I needed a boyfriend like I needed a hole in my head, but sometimes I did miss having an actual human to converse with.
“Thank you for the dating advice, Son,” I said. “Now tell me how finals went.”
As he talked about his English final and what a moron his professor was, I wasn’t really listening. My blond-haired-blue-eyed boy was turning into a man. Even though I had just seen him about a month ago, he looked different, more mature. Was he really trying to grow a beard, or had he just not bothered to shave the past week or so? What about that longer hair? Was that an oversight, or were the soft, wavy blond locks an intentional surfer-dude look? And he sounded so serious, not like my silly boy of days gone by. My heart swelled with pride, especially when he said he was pretty sure he’d received an A for a grade. “Math will probably be a different story.”
I nodded, understanding completely. “I’m not a math person either,” I sighed. “Words are our jam, honey. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and you just do the best you can.”
“I am.” He clasped his hands together and lifted his chin toward the cacophony in the kitchen. “What are you going to do with them?”
“For now, I’m going to keep them fed and warm,” I said. “They’ve only been here a few hours. I’ll make an appointment with the vet to make sure they’re all healthy. I wasn’t going to get a table at the Christmas Festival this year because I only had Banshee to be adopted, but I think I need to now.”
“They’re really cute, Mom.”
“I know. Based on their coloring, I think they may be full bred Bernese Mountain dogs, but I’m not sure.”
He pulled out his phone and searched for a picture of the breed. “I think you’re right,” he said. “They do look a bit like that.”
“I could really use your help with them while you’re home,” I ventured.
He smiled and arched a brow, reminding me a little of Ryan Reynolds. “That’s a tough job, but I think I can handle it,” he replied.
“There’s pee!” Daisy yelled. “Lots of pee, Gina!”
I almost answered, but I caught myself. “I’m sure the puppies are peeing in there,” I said. “I’m going to do a quick clean up.”
“Okay,” he replied. “The tree looks really pretty.”
I glanced over at the fake six-foot, pre-lit Christmas tree, which stood free of ornaments. I’d imagined both of us decorating together, but now with the arrival of the puppies, I didn’t know how that would go. “If you like, you can get started on hanging the ornaments while I’m mopping the floor.”
“You got it,” he said, smiling. “I love decorating the tree.”
At least he hadn’t lost that in his journey to manhood.
“Now there’s poop, Gina!” Daisy yelled. “Oh, my gosh! Get me out of here!”
I hurried into the kitchen, quickly grabbed the paper towels, and got to work.
“They don’t have names,” Daisy said. “What are you going to name them?”
“I haven’t given it any thought,” I whispered.
“There’s eleven of them, right?”
I nodded.
She sat down and tilted her head to the side. “Some have more brown coloring than others.”
I glanced up at the little faces. Some were sleeping, others were wrestling. Another one was peeing. At least he’d hit the pee pad.
Daisy was right. Some had a little brown, while others were more brown than they were black and white.
