"You and I must have differing views on what's exciting." My voice is low and thick, and I chuckle as I finally turn away from the photo. He doesn't seem to be blowing smoke when he talks about the woman's reaction, and I feel my cheeks heat up slightly.

I turn and move past Bits without touching him, because I know that once I do it will be nearly impossible to let go. He said that there are five and the one over the television is last, so that leaves three more. Starting by the front door and working my out seems logical, and luckily there are two right there in the entryway. Bits follows me, watching as I carefully peel away the layers of wrapping paper to reveal photos of our animals taken on a rare afternoon of peace.

My eyes sting as a I take it in, smiling a little as I press my fingertips to the frame. Elvis doesn't always get along with the dogs, no matter how hard they try to befriend him, but sometimes there's a bit of a truce declared between them all. Usually I'm never quick enough to get a photo without disrupting that peace, but this time I was lucky. Though it's two separate photos, it helps create a larger picture. Elvis is on the windowsill, tail dropping down the wall. The photo of the dogs has them curled up together in the sunlight, with a nearly perfect silhouette of Elvis on their backs as he casts a shadow.

They're good photos. It's so unusual to think of myself at being good at anything that isn't hockey, but I might be good at this too. It's possible to be proud of myself for other things.

"These are my favorite pictures of the kids," I finally say, looking over at Bits with shining eyes. "You're amazing, Bits."