By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
We have a new dog.
Well, he’s not exactly new . . . he’s three years old. But he’s new to us, which, I suppose, means we’re new to him.
Everything is new to all of us: rules, boundaries, habits, names.
His name is Theodore, but we call him Teddy—so nondescriptive of his boisterous personality.
We were previously owners of two little old lady canines and now we have a stallion. Things are different.
We thought Teddy would be thrilled with an acre in which to run and play, and he is. He loves it. He hikes his leg on everything which is perfectly fine with me because feral cats, squirrels, and skunks aren’t fond of the odor.
He loves to play catch, he loves to run, and he loves us. It’s obvious.
But he also loves to find all the escape hatches in our perimeter fence and work his way through them.
Wait, Teddy—you have an acre in which to run and play. What could you possibly want on the outside that we can’t give you here?
I am reminded of two people in a beautiful environment who could eat whatever they wanted except the fruit of one tree. Just one out of countless trees. Numberless choices, scrumptious delights, but . . . oh, that one untouchable tree.
We love Teddy and will do whatever it takes to keep him happy and safe. Even if it means he doesn’t get to run across the road to visit the neighbor’s beautiful golden retriever lady.
“You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with
songs of deliverance.”
Psalm 32:7
~
Everything is new Share on X
“Where did he come from?” Mae Ann stooped again to hold the pup’s head between her hands and look into his amber eyes while the rest of his body wagged. How dearly she missed her beloved Percy. But he’d been a morsel compared to this beast. “Look at the size of his feet. He’ll be a giant.”
Cade’s features flushed with good humor, something Mae Ann hadn’t seen much of lately. How handsome he was when he smiled. No worry creases. No frown.
“I got him from the sheriff.”
Straightening, she brushed paw prints from her apron at his admission. “You were in town.”
His smile dimmed, and he avoided her eyes. “Wired Judge Murphy about the will.”
“I see.” So much for a pleasant moment between them.
Blue bounded up to welcome the new playmate, and the two of them romped around the porch, yapping and scampering as only canine comrades could. She returned to the clothesline, arguing against her irritation that Cade was only trying to do the honorable thing.
She snapped out his sister’s shirt, the one he’d given her for riding. “The dog is wonderful. Did you think Blue needed a companion?”
Cade thumbed his hat up and stood just inside her field of vision, his hands on his hips. “He’s for you. I wanted you to have a companion.”
A companion? Disappointment vied with gratitude. Did he think she did not enjoy his companionship? Then again, he was busy most of the day with chores, or gone for hours with Deacon, checking the herd. And theirs was a business arrangement, after all.
She chose gratitude. “How thoughtful of you.”
The turn of his lips said she’d chosen well. “What will you call him?”
She pinned the shirt to the line, then tapped her chin with a finger, watching Blue nip at the big pup’s heels. “I’ll have to give it some thought. He’s going to be as big as a bear, but bears aren’t the color of dark honey.”
Cade rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to call him Honey, are you?”
Though dampened earlier at mention of Henry’s will, good humor thrummed through her and, with little effort, spilled out. “Of course not, silly. He’s much too masculine for a name like that.”
“Good.”
She slid him a glance. “I could follow your lead and call him a color.”
“My lead?”
“Yes. You have Blue and Ginger. I could call the dog Goldenrod. Or Mustard. Buttercup … Peaches.”
Cade’s jaw dropped.
“That’s it—he’s such a lovely peach color.”
“No!”
Fully committed to egging him on, she picked up the empty basket and propped it on her hip. “You wanted to know what I intend to call him.”
He stared at her, speechless.
Empowered by triumph, she hurried inside before she burst out laughing. ~An Improper Proposal
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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