an ugly dog, but already I loved him with all my heart. When we got to the Friendly Corners Trailer Park, I told Winn-Dixie that he had to behave right and be quiet, because this was an all-adult trailer park and the only reason I got to live in it was because the preacher was a preacher and I was a good, quiet kid. I was what the Friendly Corners Trailer Park manager, Mr Alfred, called ‘an exception’. And I told Winn-Dixie he had to act like an exception, too; specifically, I told him not to pick any fights with Mr Alfred’s cats or Mrs Detweller’s little yappy Yorkie dog, Samuel. Winn-Dixie looked up at me while I was telling him everything, and I swear he understood. ‘Sit,’ I told him when we got to my trailer. He sat right down. He had good manners. ‘Stay here,’ I told him. ‘I’ll be right back.’ The preacher was sitting in the living room, working at the little fold-out table. He had papers spread all around him and he was rubbing his nose, which always meant he was thinking. Hard. ‘Daddy?’ I said. ‘Hmmm,’ he said back.