Our family’s recent puppy acquisition was the result of an intervention. Our adult middle daughter, who nested (someone else’s term for moving back in with us for the year), sat me down and informed me I needed a dog for companionship. To keep the lonelys away.

That’s how we (or I) got Scout, a goldendoodle whose flowing, fluffy mane renders her a rusty teddy bear, except when the groomer gives her a severe buzz for summer.

Scout and I often go hours without a word exchanged, or more correctly, delivered. However, when we sit down with a roll (or anything baked) and a coffee at Iggy’s in Menemsha, we become social mavens, ready to inform all comers about the Island’s lesser-known wonders. I hope many a hike occurs because of these chance encounters.

On a recent morning, we encountered twin girls, aged two and a half, who were picking the chocolate fillings from their croissants with glee and with little regard for the effort it initially took to insert the stuff. They both had chocolate cheeks.

The twins looked over at Scout and politely asked to pet her. These were messy, but socially adept, toddlers. After a short visit with Scout, the girls brought over small blossoms harvested from the flower box bordering the seating area. Scout paid little attention, but I accepted them with gratitude. The gesture (mine) earned me something because the girls seemed captivated. They all but ignored the cutest dog in the world and played peek-a-boo with me.

Their parents took the girls for a short walk, but they soon returned. One wanted to say goodbye to me in person with a high five. I complied with a want-to-be-a-grandfather joy (our eldest daughter recently married).

Scout and I bask in both the quiet and the banter of our morning visits with Island visitors and neighbors. The walks and talks last as long as they do. That is, until the kind, over-worked employee sets out a sign that the parking spot I was fortunate enough to snag is needed for the baker’s van. Coffee place celebrity-hood has its limits. I leave quickly, with Scout of course.

The lonelys are nowhere close.

Michael McAuliffe lives in Chilmark.