It’s as if a tornado has been let out of the little box and its spinning orb is ricocheting off everything in its path. Lyllian staggers back as the small furry black puppy launches itself out of the crate and into her legs. A long red tongue laps at her hands and a cold black nose nuzzles.  Michael is holding the new little member of the Vega family trying to detach her needle teeth from the front of Lyllian’s old Nirvana tee-shirt.

“What on earth do we have here?” she laughs as the large brown eyes smile at her and everything around her.

“This is, well, I don’t have a name yet. I’m looking for ideas!” Michael says wrestling the dog to the ground and distracting her wild spin with a little stuffed orange fox toy.

Frankie and Viv are the next to arrive, tumbling in the door arguing about what sounds like who gets dibs on the one bathroom. All comments stop though the instant they see the puppy anxiously wiggling around Michael’s legs. They squeal in unison and swoop down much to the obvious pleasure of our new companion.

A million questions bounce around. “Who’s puppy?” “Can we keep it?” “What’s his name?” “Is that pee?”

Michael takes her hand and kisses it a smile in his brown eyes. We already had two cats, tabby brothers, whose antics were legend in the neighborhood as it was. But she’d longed for a dog. A companion on those long nights when Michael was working, a friend to walk with who would not bother her with useless questions and chitchat, someone to even be a second pair of eyes on her girls in this sometimes scary world. Michael had completed the fence in the backyard a shade under a week ago and it looked good. Sturdy and private – ready.

Lyllian wraps her arms around Michael and whispers a low thank you. Her name will be Hazel she says. Hazel-Rah. 

Next Chapter: Lyllian, Somewhere