But that night, something else took root in him — something stubborn. A memory of Jamie’s laugh in the backyard. A flash of golden fur in a boy’s drawing from long ago. And that quiet sentence: Can we get a dog?
The next day, Jamie came downstairs to find his dad crouched by the couch, wrestling with a cardboard box. The box barked. Jamie blinked. “What…?” The flap popped open, and a small, golden puppy tumbled out like a spring-loaded surprise.
Big paws, floppy ears, a wet nose — and eyes that looked like they knew Jamie already. His dad stood up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s yours. If you still want him.” Jamie dropped to the floor so fast he nearly slid.
The puppy leapt into his lap, licking his chin and wagging furiously. Jamie laughed — the kind of laugh that makes your eyes sting. “You said we couldn’t afford one.” “We can’t,” his dad said with a grin. “But I couldn’t afford not to see you smile like that either.”