Thirty-Four
One year later
I told Dad we didn’t need Town Cars for tonight, but he insisted. “It’s a big deal, F-Stop. Let me treat my kids once in a while.”
Sam is out back with the dogs, making sure they’ve peed, et cetera, before we lock them in their crates. I stand in front of the full-length mirror and twirl a few times, making sure no detail has been overlooked.
“What do you think, Zod? Think your dad will like it?”
The huge tabby pauses his grooming, engages a purr that rivals a Harley engine, and rolls over on the bed, waiting for affection.
A month after Sam’s romantic proposal at the studio, he got a call from a woman in Lake Oswego—she’d been fostering this big male stray that had been dumped on their property. At a second vet appointment for an infected paw pad, the vet
