enthusiastically, whined, and wagged his tail more furiously than
ever.
'He's a sweet-tempered fella. Aren't you, Falstaff. His name's
Falstaff.'
'Really?' Heather said. 'Hardly seems fair, does it? But he's two
years old and used to it now. I hear from Paul Youngblood you're in
the market for just such an animal as Falstaff here.' Toby gasped. He
gaped at Travis. 'Hold your mouth open that wide,' Travis warned him,
'and some critter is going to run in there and build a nest.'
He smiled at Heather and Jack. 'Was this what you had in mind?'
'Just about exactly,' Jack said. Heather said, 'Except, we thought a
puppy . . .'
'With Falstaff, you get all the joy of a good dog and none of that
puppy mess. He's two years old, mature, housebroken, well behaved.
Won't spot the carpet or chew up the furniture. But he's still a young
dog, lots of years ahead of him.
Interested?' Toby looked up worriedly, as if it was beyond conception
that such an enormous great good thing as this could befall him without
his parents objecting or the ground opening and swallowing him alive.
Heather glanced up at Jack, and he said, 'Why not?' Looking at Travis,
Heather said, 'Why not?'
'Yes!' Toby made it a one-word expression of explosive ecstasy.
They went to the back of the wagon, and Travis opened the tailgate.
Falstaff bounded out of the wagon to the ground and immediately began
excitedly sniffing everyone's feet, turning in circles, one way and
then the other, slapping their legs with his tail, licking their hands
when they tried to pet him, a jubilation of fur and warm tongue and
cold nose and heart-melting brown eyes. When he calmed down, he chose
to sit in front of Toby, to whom he offered a raised paw.
'He can shake hands!' Toby exclaimed, and proceeded to take the paw
and pump it.
'He knows a lot of tricks,' Travis said. 'Where'd he come from?' Jack
asked. 'A couple in town, Leona and Harry Seaquist. They had goldens
all their lives.
Falstaff here was the latest.'
'He seems too nice to just be given up.' Travis nodded.
'Sad case. A year ago, Leona got cancer, was gone in three months.
Few weeks back, Harry suffered a stroke, lost the use of his left
arm.
Speech is slurred, and his memory isn't so good. Had to go to Denver
to live with his son, but they didn't want the dog. Harry cried like a
baby when he said goodbye to Falstaff. I promised him I'd find a good
home for the pooch.'
Toby was on his knees, hugging the golden around the neck, and it was
licking the side of his face. 'We'll give him the best home any dog
ever had anywhere anytime ever, won't we, Mom, won't we, Dad?'
To Travis, Heather said, 'How sweet of Paul Youngblood to call you
about us.'
'Well, he heard mention your boy wanted a dog. And this isn't the
