“I told you that I would take whatever you could give me, and I meant it, so give me something, Dom.” I search myself frantically because I know she means it. “French bulldog,” I blurt, and she jerks back in confusion. “What?” “That’s the dog you should get,” I say. She crosses her arms. “I’m listening.” “They’re companion dogs with good temperament—easy going, alert, sociable, patient, smart. They’re so ugly that they’re cute. It’s the dog Sean should have gotten, but he got an idiot instead.”
