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  “He has two speeds,” said Aunt Jo. “He’s either at a dead run, or he’s asleep. That’s it. Have fun. Come on, Evelyn.”

  “I think we’ll go by Wal-Mart and buy some baby gates so we can at least hem him up in one room. Do you want us to pick up some for you, too?”

  “We’ll buy what they have in stock,” said Aunt Jo. “Come on, Evelyn.”

  “Oh, dear, is he that bad?” Daisy asked, dismayed. He looked like such a little angel, lying there asleep.

  “He seems to be mostly house-trained,” said her mother. “But he needs to go outside every two hours, as regular as clockwork. He did piddle on the puppy pads—”

  “When he wasn’t tearing them to shreds,” interrupted Aunt Jo. “Evelyn, come on.”

  “He likes his stuffed toys—”

  “He likes everything, including his water dish. Evelyn, if you don’t come on, I’ll leave without you. He might wake up any minute.”

  The puppy lifted his head and yawned, his little pink tongue stretching out. Within ten seconds, her mother and aunt had their purses and were out the door. Daisy put her hands on her hips and looked at the little fluff ball. “Okay, mister, just what have you done?”

  He rolled over on his back, stretching. She was unable to resist rubbing the warm little tummy, which he took as an invitation to begin licking her everywhere that pink, eager tongue could reach. She picked him up and cuddled him, loving the warmth and smallness of him under all that fuzz. His big, soft feet batted at her, and he wiggled, signaling that he wanted down. She set him down, then broke into a sprint when he darted for the kitchen.

  All he wanted was some water. He lapped eagerly, then all of a sudden pounced into the bowl with both front feet, sending water flying.

  She got the kitchen floor mopped up—which he thought was a great game, because he kept pouncing on the mop—fed him, and took him outside to do his business. He squatted as soon as his feet touched the grass; then he attacked a bush. Worried that the leaves might be poisonous to him, or at least upset his little tummy, she got him away from the bush and used the hose pipe to run water in the kids’ wading pool she’d bought for him.

  He was too little to climb over the rim of the pool, so she helped him in and watched him run and slide in the two inches of water until he was drenched, she was drenched, and her sides ached from laughing so much. Lifting him out of the pool, she wrapped him in a towel and carried him inside, hoping he’d take another nap so she could eat.

  He pounced into his water bowl again. While she was mopping, he chased the mop. Then he grabbed the kitchen towel and made a run for it. She caught him as he dove under the bed, and hauled him out. Her efforts to take the towel away from him evidently convinced him she wanted to play tug-of-war and he pulled on the towel for all he was worth, emitting baby growls while his whole body quivered with effort.

  She distracted him with a little stuffed duck. He threw the duck over his head, pounced on it, and managed to stuff it under the couch where he couldn’t reach it. Then he stood there and yapped until she got down on her hands and knees and retrieved the duck. He immediately stuffed it under the couch again.

  Next she tried a rubber chew toy as a distraction, and it worked for about ten minutes. He lay on his belly and held the chew toy between his front paws, gnawing with fierce concentration. Daisy took the opportunity to get out of her work clothes and begin making herself a sandwich. She heard a crash from the living room and ran in barefoot to find he’d somehow dislodged the television remote control from the lamp table and was busy trying to kill it. She took the remote away and put it in a safe place.

  He loved her red toenails. He pounced on her bare feet. He kept jumping at her, trying to catch her fingers in his mouth; startled, she would jerk her hand back, and his sharp little baby teeth hurt. Finally, she just held her hand down and he mouthed her fingers as if tasting her, then, satisfied, released her.

  At last, he got sleepy. He stopped practically in mid-run and collapsed on his belly, heaving a huge sigh as his eyes closed.

  “I guess it was a big day for you, little guy,” she murmured. “Do you miss your mama, and your brothers and sisters? You’ve always had someone to play with, haven’t you? And now you’re all by yourself.”

  It was after seven o’clock by then, and she was starving. She finished making her sandwich and ate it standing where she could keep an eye on him. He looked so sweet and tiny while he was asleep, but as soon as his eyes opened, he would be full speed again.

  He slept on, with the absolute obliviousness of a baby. She decided to take a quick shower and left the bathroom door open so he could come in if he woke up. She undressed, dropping her clothes on the floor, and stepped into the tub. She had just gotten soaped when she heard something and parted the curtain to see a pale fuzz ball darting into the hall with her panties in his mouth.

  Daisy leaped out of the tub and ran in naked, sliding pursuit. He somehow squeezed behind the couch with his captured treasure. She pulled the couch away from the wall and retrieved her panties. There was, of course, a hole in them. He wagged his tail.

  “You little demon,” she said, picking him up and carrying him into the bathroom with her. She closed the door so he couldn’t get out, put her clothes on the back of the toilet where he couldn’t reach them, and got back into the shower. He spent the whole time yapping and standing on his back legs, trying to crawl over into the tub with her.

  She had learned from the mop episode; instead of stepping out onto the bath mat to towel off, she stood in the tub. He eyed the towel with longing, sitting on his haunches and looking angelic.

  His little face was so happy, she thought, his mouth open in a perpetual smile. His dark eyes, the rims dark, as if someone had lined his eyes with kohl, were very exotic with his pale fur and long blond lashes. He was so curious and enthused about everything that his tail wagged nonstop, like a souped-up metronome.

  “So what if you’re a little devil,” she said. “You’re my little devil, and I fell in love with you when you climbed in my lap.” His tail wagged even faster as he listened to her voice and the crooning note in it.

  “I have to come up with a good name for you, something that sounds big and tough. You’re supposed to protect me, you know. I don’t think it would scare many burglars if I yelled, ‘Sic ‘im, Fluffy,’ do you? How about Brutus?”

  He yawned.

  “You’re right; you aren’t a Brutus. You’re too pretty. How about Devil?” After a moment, watching him, she vetoed that choice herself. “No, I don’t like that, because I just know you’re going to be a sweetheart when you grow up.”

  She tried out names on him for the rest of the evening: Conan, Duke, King, Rambo, Rocky, Samson, Thor, Wolf. None of them were right. She just couldn’t look at that smiling little face and make a macho name fit.

  She learned not to leave water in his water bowl, or it ended up on the kitchen floor. When he went to his bowl, she poured a little water in, and after he’d lapped that up, she poured some more, until he quit lapping. Unfortunately, there was usually some water left in the bowl when he finished, and he pounced into it. Daisy mopped up water seven times that night, with him in fierce pursuit of the mop head.

  He was so intelligent she was amazed; in just that afternoon and night he had learned to go to the back door when he needed to go outside. Finally he seemed to be winding down, so Daisy introduced him to his dog bed, which she had placed in her bedroom so he wouldn’t be lonely and cry at night. She closed the bedroom door to keep him corralled for the night, placed the stuffed duck in the bed with him, and wearily crawled into bed. She turned out the lamp, and exactly two seconds later he started whimpering.

  Fifteen minutes later she gave up and lifted him into the bed with her. He was almost hysterical with joy, jumping and tugging at the covers and licking her in the face. She had just gotten him settled down when the phone rang. It was Jack. While he was talking, the puppy found her robe, which she’d tosse