Winkie returned a few minutes later.
“What have you got in your hands?” asked Aunt Susan as her eyes looked downward.
Winkie opened her hands; inside lay the green frog she’d bought that day at the hardware store. “I want to give Squirt something to remember me by.” A sad smile formed. “It’s not easy moving to a new home. You made my room special by putting my old things there so I could remember and feel comfortable. Maybe Squirt won’t feel so lonely when she’s away from her litter mates and her dog house if she has something familiar to go to sleep with.”
“I think Squirt will like that,” said Aunt Susan.
Side by side, Winkie and Aunt Susan walked down to the Lambs’ house. They walked around to the back yard. The place was empty. Except for Squirt, all the other puppies had gone to their new homes. Fresh tears welled in Winkie’s eyes. She missed the yipping and yapping and the clawing of all those little paws.
They walked up to the front door, and Aunt Susan knocked on the paneling next to the screen. “Yoo-hoo, Julie, it’s me and Winkie!”
“Come on in, Susan,” yelled Mrs. Lamb. “The door’s open.”
Aunt Susan opened the door for Winkie to enter first. They walked through the living room and into the kitchen. If Winkie had thought her heart was going to break when she was sitting in the porch swing, now she knew for sure it was going to be torn in two.
Mrs. Lamb had bathed Squirt and put a big red bow around her neck. Squirt yelped and yapped and wiggled from Mrs. Lamb’s grasp. She raced up to Winkie and pawed her way into her arms. She nuzzled Winkie’s hands until the furry frog broke free. Little squeaks filled the silence.
Winkie buried her head into Squirt’s neck. She wanted to breathe in enough of her puppy sweetness to last her a lifetime. Her eyes blurred as she gazed down to the floor. Mrs. Lamb had packed a basket with Squirt’s food, a collar, and an envelope with her papers showing she was a pedigreed Yellow Labrador. Also in the basket was the Atlanta Braves baseball cap and Winkie’s old tennis shoe. Now Winkie’s eyes over flowed and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Winkie placed Squirt on the floor. “I’ve changed my mind, Aunt Susan. I don’t want to meet Squirt’s new owner.” She turned and started to walk from the kitchen, but Aunt Susan grabbed her gently by the elbow.
Mrs. Lamb smiled. “You already have.” She returned Squirt to Winkie’s arms.
Winkie tilted her head and looked from Mrs. Lamb to Aunt Susan and then back to Mrs. Lamb. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“You’re Squirt’s new owner,” came a familiar man’s voice.
Winkie looked over to see her daddy walking into the kitchen. “She’s all yours, sweetheart.”
Winkie’s sad heart pounded, so quickly in fact, that her hands began to shake. “She’s mine?”
“All yours,” said Aunt Susan.
“B-but what about the other owner?” Winkie asked Mrs. Lamb.
“I called her and explained your situation. I told her of Squirt’s love for you. I promised her she could have first pick of the next litter.”
“So, it’s all settled. She’s yours,” said Mr. Hardy.
Winkie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But I thought she was already picked by someone else.”
“She was.” Aunt Susan smiled. “But she wanted you so much she took everything she could get to keep you close to her.”
Squirt looked up at Winkie and licked her teary cheek.
Mrs. Lamb’s smile grew bigger, but her eyes were serious. “Dear, Squirt picked you. She picked you to be her best friend.”
Hello
Winkie tossed the frog for Squirt to chase. She ran across the floor, her feet sliding in four different directions as she raced after the toy. That afternoon Winkie had found an old basket and a blanket in the garage to make Squirt a bed. She’d washed the blanket until it was fluffy and smelled fresh. Then she placed them next to her bed. Even though she’d proven to Aunt Susan and her daddy that she wasn’t an airhead, she wanted to show them she could be responsible for Squirt, as well. She’d walk her, teach her how to ask to go outside when she needed to go to the bathroom, feed her, bathe her, and brush her coat everyday. They’d never know that a dog was in the house.
Winkie watched Squirt settle into her bed. She turned around a couple of times, selected a soft spot, and then curled into a ball. Tiny puppy teeth chewed on the toy. Looking around the room, Winkie’s eyes came to rest on the painting of the field of periwinkles. Her thoughts returned to that day just a couple of weeks ago when they’d left Knoxville. She’d felt like her life was over, and she would never be the same again. Well, things were different, but she was happy in her new home, and God had answered her three prayers.
First, she’d asked to remember her old room forever. He’d done better than that. She now had her old room in her new home.
Second, she asked God for her mama to be with her everyday for the rest of her life, that she would never for a minute forget her. He’d answered that prayer, too, even though in her heart, Winkie had believed He could never make that happen. Now she remembered her mama every time someone called her by her new name.
Third, she asked for friends. Again, God had answered her prayer ten-fold. She had Mr. and Mrs. Lamb, Myna and Marianne, Scarlet, Maria, and Lynn Anne. Even better, God had sent her a best friend, someone who had picked her first.
She watched Squirt bury her head into a fold in the blanket. Her big brown eyes studied Winkie as her tail thumped. Winkie leaned over and kissed the top of her head. As happy as she was with the way that every thing had turned out, there was one small detail she wasn’t happy with. She planned to talk to Aunt Susan and her daddy about that first thing in the morning.
* * * * *
The next morning Winkie rose early and took Squirt out to eat and play. By the time they returned home, the smell of maple bacon wiggled through the spaces in the front door and welcomed Winkie as she walked up the steps. As they entered the kitchen, Aunt Susan was making hot biscuits and cheddar cheese scrambled eggs.
Winkie unsnapped the hook from Squirt’s collar and hung the leash on a knob by the back door. She looked hesitantly to see what her aunt was doing, to see what creation she was concocting at the stove.
Aunt Susan put down her spatula and smiled. “No need to worry, dear. I’ve decided to stay with the tested and approved recipes.”
Winkie sighed softly as she took her place at the table. Squirt settled herself underneath Winkie’s chair, curled up so that her tail touched her nose, and waited for some tasty crumbs to hit the floor.
Once everyone was settled at the table, Aunt Susan, Mr. Hardy, and Winkie joined hands to say the blessing.
“Amen,” said Winkie. She lifted the platter of eggs and scooped some onto her plate. Then she passed them to her daddy.
“I’ve been thinking,” began Winkie.
“About what?” asked her daddy.
Winkie cleared her throat. “Now that Squirt’s my dog, I don’t want to call her Squirt any more.”
Aunt Susan nodded. “She may have been the runt of the litter, but if that puppy takes after Molly, she’s going to grow into a very big Labrador.”
“And Squirt might not really fit her any more,” agreed Mr. Hardy.
Winkie put down her fork. “But I don’t want to hurt Mrs. Lamb’s feelings,” said Winkie. “After all, she gave her that name.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, dear,” reassured Aunt Susan. “All the owners rename their puppies once they take them home.” She patted her niece’s hand. “I don’t think for a minute that Julie’s feelings would be hurt. Why, I think she always calls the smallest puppy in the litter ‘Squirt.’”
“Do you have a new name already picked out?” asked Mr. Hardy.
Winkie nodded. “I thought about it last night, and I have the perfect name for her.”
“What is it?” asked Aunt Susan.
“Laurel,” answered Winkie. “Beca
use she was always coming from underneath the laurel bushes and that’s where she kept all my stuff.”
“That sounds like a fine name,” said Mr. Hardy.
“I can’t think of a better one,” added Aunt Susan.
“Then it’s settled,” announced Winkie.
She plopped down on the floor next to her chair, and looked at the puppy nose-to-nose.
“Hello, Laurel, welcome to your new name, your new home, and your new best friend!” exclaimed Winkie.
Laurel lifted her head and yapped.
The End
Who'll Pick Me? Page 9
