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It wasn’t on the list, but the first thing we did before we did anything else was take Rupert out for a walk. Dad held on to Rupert’s leash. I was happy to push Sam in his stroller.

When you’re out walking with a dog, you notice things. Like, for instance, you notice how many places there are for dogs to stop and sniff. You notice how many other dogs are out there, walking around and sniffing. There are tons of them. You notice how most people smile when they see your dog. You also notice how many people want to stop and talk to you about your dog. They want to know his name, how old he is and what type of dog he is. It’s never boring.

I took Sam to the swings while Dad walked around with Rupert so Rupert could do his sniffing. Dad talked with some other dog owners. Rupert sniffed some other dogs. Finally, after Rupert found the perfect place to do his business, we all went home. I gave Rupert one of his chewy treats and made sure his water bowl was filled, and then Sam, Dad and I headed down to Park Street.

The record store is called Sonic Boom. Walking into the store was like walking into an alternate universe. Music was playing really loud. Dad said the woman who was singing was named Carmen Miranda and that she was from Brazil. She’d made records long before Elvis. She used to wear fruit on her head. Weird, right? But the song she was singing was really good:

Chica chica boom chica chica boom chica chica boom …

The wooden floors were old and creaky. The walls were covered with cool posters and old mirrors and other random things. A bunch of people stood around the counter, talking with the guy behind the cash. He had tattoos all over his arms.

The records were in wooden bins and there were rows and rows and rows of them.

“Here we go — rock and roll,” said Dad, looking through the records.

“Elbith!” said Sam. “Wock and woll!”

The guys at the counter looked over at us and started laughing.

“Little dude’s an Elvis fan!” one of them said.

“Here it is,” said Dad, victorious. He was holding a record called Viva Las Vegas. Elvis Presley was on the cover, wearing an orange racing suit and holding an orange helmet. “This is the record we want.”

“Cool,” said the guy behind the counter when Dad went up to pay for the record. “You have good taste, man.”

“Your taste isn’t too bad, either,” said Dad. “I love Carmen Miranda.”

“Nice one, Dad,” I said, a little embarrassed by my dad trying to act cooler than he really is.

....

“What do you think, kids? Should I get a tattoo?” asked Dad as we walked out of the store and back onto Park Street. “Would that make me even cooler?”

“What kind of tattoo would you get?” I said.

“Elvis?” he said.

“Woopah!” said Sam.

“Mom?” I suggested.

“Mama!” said Sam.

We stopped at the store to get some bread for the Elvis sandwiches. When we got home, Rupert was sleeping under the kitchen table. He got up and had a big stretch. Then he gave himself a good shake. I offered him a treat.

“Good boy!” I said, refilling his water bowl.

We went down to our storage locker in the basement to get Mom’s old record player. The locker is actually more like a big cupboard in a big room full of other cupboards. It’s piled full of boxes and other random things. Whenever we go down to look for something we seem to find something else.

“How come there are so many boxes marked BOOKS?” I asked.

“I used to go to university,” said Dad. “I used to read a lot. I’ve read every one of those books.”

“How come you still have them?” I asked. “You’re not in university anymore.”

“Maybe I’ll read them again someday,” he said. “Or maybe you will. You never know.”

I wondered if there were any interesting old books in there to add to my collection.

Dad moved a few boxes to one side and pulled out Mom’s old record player. It looked like an old leather suitcase. We saw some of her records but we left them. We already had the record we were going to play.