Page 40 of Christmas in Paradise

“She’s got a leash and collar. What else does she need?” I know there’s more. Bear has told me that, but I’ve brushed off all his offers of help, because I wanted to be able to do this on my own.

I should have known this blitz would be the result of my stubbornness.

Radley squirms in my arms, but I can’t let her down. She’ll pee. Even though the floor is vinyl tile, I don’t want to risk her wanting to pee here again. Because, apparently, I don’t have the right cleaning products to erase the smell forever.

“Here’s what we need,” Bear says while he writes. “A crate, training treats, puppy pads, puppy chow, chew toys, pet stain remover. Oh, and food and water dishes.”

“I’ve got bowls for her.” Which reminds me: I haven’t fed her.

I walk toward the back where I have the bowls in the hallway between the front of the shop and my office space. Bear follows me while Carson stays up front with Mrs. C.

“These?” He points to the bowls.

“Yeah.” I set Radley down and scoop food from the open bag into her bowl.

Bear shakes his head. “No, you’ve got bowls and food for a grown dog the size of a horse.”

I follow his eyes to Radley whose paws are on the edge of her water bowl, which is bigger than her whole body.

“She’ll grow into it,” I say hopefully.

“Only if she’s got mastiff in her. Which she doesn’t. She’s a mini-aussie, cocker spaniel mix. I told you this.” Bear picks her up and lifts her paws. “See how little these are? This is what she’ll grow into, not something big enough to eat or drink out of those bowls. Did you listen to anything I told you about her?”

“Dude, I don’t know dog breeds. And no way was I going to remember everything you said.” There was a lot.

And I missed most of it because Radley was barking, but he might have said something about her growing to be about medium size. Whatever that means.

Bear sighs and takes out his phone. “You’ve got no business owning a puppy if you don’t know what you’re doing.” He taps the screen a few times, then hands me Radley and shows me the screen. “See this book about puppies? I’m ordering it, and you’re reading it, or else I’m taking Uncle Rad back.”

I look at Radley, considering my options. I hate to read, and she’s already so much work, I don’t know if I want to put even more effort into taking care of her.

“Maybe I should give her back to you,” I mumble.

Carson wanders into the hallway just then. “Give what back? Radley?”

Uncle Rad looks at me and licks my face, something I’m learning to like. I stroke her head. I really do like her, but I have to consider what the best thing for her is, because Bear’s right. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“Try the book first,” Bear says in a gentler voice. “And let me help, but don’t give up yet. You’ll get it. Puppies take months—even years—to train.”

“It’s normal to be discouraged the first few weeks with a puppy,” Carson adds as he brushes dog hair from his jacket. The fact that someone as meticulous as he is can believe in me gives me some hope.

“Fine.” I nod. “I’ll read it.”

Carson claps a hand on my shoulder. “Relationships take work, be they human or animal.”

Bear nods in agreement.

And I know we’re not talking about Uncle Rad anymore. I want to protest that Hope isn’t the reason I got the puppy. But that would be a lie.

“You’re right,” I say with a sigh. “I just didn’t realize it would be so hard. I mean, this is harder than having a kid.”

Bear scoffs and Carson blinks slowly before saying, “I don’t have kids, but I’m one hundred percent sure that’s not true.”

I set Radley down, and she goes straight for the bag of food, clawing at it to make it fall over.

I grab food from the bag and toss it on the floor where she can reach it. “You’re probably right, but people are born knowing how to parent. Raising animals does not come naturally to humans.”

Bear shakes his head and mutters, “Duuuuude,” while Carson bursts into laughter. “Oh, you poor, simple, man.”

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