Who was crying the loudest on Dogavios that week? It wasn't the wind. It wasn't the rocks. It was Flurry, Pigúiça's new baby brother, who had just arrived and was about the size of a rolled-up sock.
Everyone wanted to see Flurry. Bolota brought a soft little blanket. Nina brought a tiny flower that sang lullabies. Even the clouds floated down a bit to peek through the window.
Pigúiça sat in a corner with her arms crossed. Well, her paws crossed. “Nobody looks at me anymore,” she grumbled. “Only at him. He can't even do anything. All he does is sleep and cry.”
Fofuxo heard her but didn't say anything right then. The next day, he invited Pigúiça for a walk to the village square, and they brought Flurry along, all bundled up.
The square was full of puppies. As soon as they saw Fofuxo, they all came running and climbed right up on him, onto his back, his head, his ears. Fofuxo sat down, laughing, and let the whole bunch clamber all over him.
That's when Flurry woke up and started to cry. Waaah! Bolota tried rocking him. That didn't work. Nina tried singing. That didn't work either. And Fofuxo, covered in puppies, couldn't move an inch.
Pigúiça sighed, scooted up close to her brother, and made the face she was best at: tongue out to one side, one eye shut, and ears pulled back.
Flurry stopped crying. He looked. He blinked. And then he let out a teeny little giggle, the very first giggle of his whole life.
The whole square went quiet. “He laughed for you,” said Fofuxo, from underneath the pile of puppies. “You're the only one who can make him laugh like that.”
Pigúiça felt something warm in her chest. She made the face again. Flurry giggled again. She made a brand new face, with both ears flopped forward. And he laughed even harder.
“When he grows up,” said Pigúiça, “I'm going to teach him how to run, how to jump in puddles, and how to make funny faces. I'm the big sister, you know.” “I know,” said Fofuxo. “He's a lucky pup.”
That night, Flurry slept in his little basket right next to Pigúiça's bed. Every now and then he made a tiny sound, and she reached out a paw and touched him, ever so gently.
“Good night, Flurry,” Pigúiça whispered. Her baby brother sighed. His big sister sighed too. And they both fell asleep, each in their own cozy spot, breathing slowly, in and out, together.
