Chapter 16
Mary Louise opened her eyes and looked at the clock. 6:30 a.m. All those years she had dreamed of sleeping in, but there were kids to get up, lunches to pack, work to get to. Now that she had all the time in the world and could sleep all day if she wanted to she still couldn’t sleep past 6:30.
She got up and went to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. When did coffee become so complicated? There were the machines where you had to use the little plastic cups, French presses and that machine recommended by George Clooney. All she and Albert ever needed or wanted was a nice hot brewed cup of coffee. The first time she had dared go into a Starbucks, she asked for a cup of coffee and the person behind the counter looked at her like she was from some other planet, then spewed out a list of choices that sounded like Greek to Mary Louise until they got to the sizes, which were in Italian. Even the person behind the counter, she later found out, was called a barista.
“Can I just get a large regular coffee?” she’d asked pleadingly.
Here in her own cozy kitchen, the fanciest and most complicated she got was setting the timer on the pot so that it was ready when she got up. The stainless steel carafe kept it hot all morning.
As she poured her coffee, she looked out the large kitchen window. There were several white-tailed deer scrounging in the grass and weeds in front of the house in the same spot where she’d stood with Dan the day before. He was such a nice man, and so knowledgeable about the native trees and plants. He’d made several suggestions about what she might want to plant, including several that were supposedly deer “resistant.”
“There’s no such thing as deer proof,” he’d said. “Sometimes it depends on the soil, not the plant. Deer will eat something to the nub on one property and not touch it on another.”
She took her coffee to the living room and sat in her chair, looking out the glass doors that opened to the patio. A roadrunner zipped past. Two squirrels chased each other along the tops of the live oaks, jumping from tree to tree and scampering down the trunks. It was a nice, peaceful start to her morning. Then her phone rang, making her jump. It was barely 7:00 a.m. Who would be calling this early?
She looked at the screen to get her answer. Dottie.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mary Louise. Sorry to bother you so early.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes and no. I’m at the hospital with John. He’s okay. Kidney stone.”
“Oh no!”
“Yeah, it started last night. By about 3 a.m. he was howling like a banshee, so I brought him up to the hospital. They got him nice and drugged up now and we’re waiting to see if it’s going to pass or if they might have to blast it.”
“You must be exhausted,” said Mary Louise, guiltily looking at her steaming cup of coffee.
“I’m not gonna lie. I sure could use a nap. Anyway, I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. Anything!”
“Is there any way you could go and get Pixie? We’re watching her while Aaron and Cheyenne are on their out west trip.”
The peace of the morning was completely gone with that statement. She had never owned a dog. She didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a dog. The very last thing in the world she wanted to do was go and get Pixie. She thought of the long discussions with, ironically, Cheyenne about her people pleasing tendencies and her inability to ever say no. The way she always put other people first and didn’t consider her own feelings and desires.
“Of course. I’ll go and get her.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth anxiety set in. Clearly she and Cheyenne still had a lot of work to do.
“Hopefully it will just be for a little while. I’ll text you the code to the garage and you can get in that way. Her food and everything is in the laundry room.”
“I’ll get dressed and head right over.”
As soon as the garage door went up, Mary Louise could hear Pixie yapping. She opened the inside door to the house and the sharp barking intensified.
“Hi, Pixie!” she tried in her most pleasant voice. Pixie was having none of it. Mary Louise could imagine what was going on in the tiny canine mind.
You’re not my momma! You’re not my grandma! You’re an intruder! You’re that mean woman who doesn’t want me to join your sessions!
Mary Louise attempted a pat on the head, but it was met with a low growl so she backed off. At least the barking had stopped.
“Outside?” tried Mary Louise. “Do you want to go outside?”
“Yap.”
Pixie trotted anxiously to the patio door that led to the back yard. Success. They had communicated. Mary Louise unlocked the door and slid it open. Pixie rocketed out the door and across the patio to find a spot on the grass to pee. When she was done she began exploring likely spots to poop. This need was much less urgent, and apparently selection of the exact right spot was akin to the King of England selecting a subject to bestow knighthood on.
When that business was finished, Pixie showed no signs of heading to the door. Mary Louise patted her thighs and said, “C’mon, Pixie.” She made kissing noises with her mouth that were equally ignored.
Mary Louise sighed. What had she gotten herself into? She walked slowly toward Pixie, using a soft calm voice to tell her what a good, sweet puppy she was. As soon as she was within striking distance, Pixie rocketed off to another location. Admitting defeat, Mary Louise made her way back to the patio doors. Pixie did not follow, but Mary Louise hadn’t actually thought she would.
She left the door open and went to the laundry room and found a bag filled with treats, poop bags, and dog food. She opened the small bag of kibble, noticing the price tag on it. Thirty-two dollars. Holy cow! It was organic, all natural, balanced nutrition. Nothing but the best for Pixie. She poured some into the small bowl on the floor, then took the bowl with her to the patio door. She shook it in Pixie’s direction and got the pup’s attention.
“C’mon, Pixie. Breakfast!”
Pixie trotted to the door and then inside, looking anxiously up at the bowl. Mary Louise shut the patio door and went back to the laundry room with Pixie following close behind. She set the bowl down and the dog began crunching the kibble looking disdainfully up at Mary Louise. She stuck her tongue out at Pixie, then began trying to calculate how much the bowl of food cost based on the size and cost of the bag. The bag was four pounds, and there were sixteen ounces in a pound. A half cup serving would be four ounces, but could the four ounces on a measuring cup be compared to four ounces of food? It was all too much. Suffice it to say, it was some expensive kibble.
Cost was one of the reasons she and her brother Roger had never been allowed to have pets, followed by their unpredictability and lastly by their mother not needing “one more thing to take care of.”
Pixie finished the food in the bowl and looked hopefully up at Mary Louise. Now she was trying to be friends. Mary Louise had no idea how much Pixie was supposed to eat, but figured another little scoop couldn’t hurt, especially if it would get her into Pixie’s good graces. There was no telling how long this favor to Dottie would last.
While Pixie finished her breakfast, Mary Louise went in search of her bed and her leash. She gathered everything, including the food and water bowl, and put them in her car. When she came back, Pixie was nowhere to be found. She called and called but Pixie was in hiding.
Finally, Mary Louise found her under John and Dottie’s bed. No amount of coaxing would get her to come out. Food had worked before. Maybe it would work again.
Mary Louise looked in Dottie’s fridge for something that might entice the little scamp. A Styrofoam container looked promising and Mary Louise opened it to find several slices of barbeque brisket. Bingo.
She tore off a couple of pieces and went back to the bedroom. She took a small piece, got on her hands and knees, and threw it under the bed. Pixie gobbled it like she hadn’t eaten in a week. Mary Louise showed her the remaining piece in her hand and slowly backed away. It didn’t take Pixie long to make her decision, and she crawled toward Mary Louise, no doubt planning a snatch and grab mission. Mary Louise was the one who did the snatching and grabbing, holding Pixie close to her chest as she chewed the rest of the brisket.
Having accepted her fate, Pixie did not try to get down. Mary Louise checked to be sure she had locked the patio door, then went out to the driveway. She punched the code into the garage door to close it and then got in her car with Pixie. She put her in the passenger seat, but Pixie now wanted to be BFFs and climbed into Mary Louise’s lap. It was just about a mile home so Mary Louise clicked on her seatbelt and backed out of the drive. They’d only gone half a mile when Pixie puked up brisket and kibble all over her lap. Mary Louise pulled over. Pixie hopped over to the passenger seat, watching intently as Mary Louise tried not to gag, using a handful of fast food napkins to clean up the glistening mess of Pixie’s stomach contents. She was tempted to just throw it out the window. It was biodegradable, after all, but she had been the one who’d stuffed Pixie with kibble and brisket and then brought her on a road trip. She reached in the back seat and set the mess on top of a gym towel. She’d deal with the final clean up later.
Mary Louise had never been one to enjoy watching other people’s children, except her grandsons, but it sure beat taking care of someone else’s dog. She was at a loss for the exact amount of attention she was supposed to pay Pixie. Should she leave her to her own devices? Play with her? Or was her only responsibility to be sure she had food and water?
Pixie investigated the house, sniffing here and there and then eyeing Mary Louise. Mary Louise didn’t know what, if anything, Pixie was trying to communicate. What’s the worst thing she could do? Pee on something? It seemed Pixie was mainly assessing her surroundings. She came back into the living room and jumped up on the couch, turning to gauge Mary Louise’s reaction. When Mary Louise didn’t shoo her off, she laid down, rested her head on her paws and let out a huge sigh.
“My feelings exactly,” said Mary Louise. With Pixie settled in, she spent the next couple of hours reading the latest Frieda McFadden. She couldn’t read them at night so she had to make hay while the sun was shining.
Walking seemed like something they both might enjoy. Pixie was very excited when she saw Mary Louise holding her leash so Mary Louise had high hopes.
It took them about ten minutes to go ten yards. Pixie stopped to sniff every single rock, flower, and blade of grass. Mary Louise looked down at her and said, “You know, it’s called a walk, not a sniff.”
Pixie stopped for a moment to look up at Mary Louise like she was the stupidest human on the face of the planet. She blew a sniff out at Mary Louise, and then continued her nasal examination of the new territory.
Mary Louise recalled the question Dan had asked about having a pet. At the time, she did not. She still did not, but was currently responsible for one. Dan had mentioned poisonous plants. Now she had a new worry to add to her list. Surely Pixie was smart enough on her own not to eat anything poisonous? She seemed more interested in sniffing rather than eating but Mary Louise kept a close eye just the same. She realized this would be an excellent excuse to call him, not that she needed an excuse. She was a grown woman and they were engaged in business. However, she knew it was more than business for her. There was something about him that was so…pleasant. She felt at ease around him. She liked his easy smile.
A buzzing in her pocket dissolved the image of Dan. It was Dottie.
“They’re gonna have to laser these suckers, but if everything goes well we should be home later this afternoon.”
Dottie sounded exhausted.
“Oh, poor John! And poor Dottie, sitting around the hospital all day and night.”
“Ah, don’t worry about me. I hate to ask, but are you still okay with Pixie?”
“Of course. Let me know when you’re headed home from the hospital. I’ll make you a pot of chicken soup, and I’ve got some of those crusty rolls in the freezer that John likes so much.”
“I don’t know if he’ll feel like eating anything, but it sure sounds good to me. You’re a good friend, Mary Louise.”
“Ditto,” she said.
By the second day, Mary Louise and Pixie had become good enough friends that she thought Pixie deserved an outing. Her charge had thoroughly sniffed every inch of ground a mile from the driveway in each direction. Mary Louise wanted to treat her to some new smells.
She packed a small backpack with water, a small bowl, dog treats, and poop bags. There was a large subdivision nearby with lots of trees and beautiful walking trails. It was a close, easy, safe place to take Pixie.
Mary Louise estimated they had walked close to two miles when the playground and parking lot where they had started came into sight. Pixie was eager to keep going, but Mary Louise thought that was enough for her little legs for one day.
On the playground just ahead two boys of about eleven were playing keep away with a tennis shoe belonging to a third boy of about the same age. Mary Louise knew she should mind her own business, but something inside of her wouldn’t let her ignore the situation. She stopped at the edge of the area and glared at the two boys tossing the shoe. They met her disapproval by rolling their eyes and continuing to taunt the kid missing one shoe who was doing his best not to cry.
Mary Louise knew it was a delicate situation. If she yelled at them, they would most likely continue to ignore her or possibly focus their shenanigans on her and Pixie. If she tried to “save” the kid they were bullying, he’d probably get it worse as soon as she was gone. So, she put her hands on her hips and said to the two boys with as much disgust in her voice as she could muster, “What are you? Two?”
That did the trick. Accusing them of acting like two-year-olds had embarrassed them without focusing on Shoeless Joe. One kid tossed the shoe back to its rightful owner and said, “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
Pixie watched the entire incident with extreme interest, most likely looking for an opening to snatch the flying shoe. Now she looked up at Mary Louise, panting and wagging her tail.
“What?” she said to Pixie. “Those little cretins need a swift kick in the ass, and I’d like to be the one to do it.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced that desire. She’d had it many times in defense of her little brother, Roger. Nowadays he’d be labeled “autistic” or “on the spectrum.” Back in the 60’s, he was labeled “retarded”. Roger wasn’t slow or unintelligent. He was just socially awkward. Oh, the names the kids came up with. The worst was probably in high school. Mary Louise was a senior and Roger was a freshman. It wasn’t bad enough that he was in a new school and new environment, but some idiot thought he was being clever and dubbed Roger “Retardo Montalbon.” Fantasy Island starring Ricardo Montalbon had just hit the airwaves. A group of boys would taunt him as they walked by saying “Da plane! Da plane.” It made her want to cry just thinking about it. Roger never got angry. He just dove deeper and deeper into himself. How ironic that his social awkwardness resulted in people treating him in such a way that he became even more awkward and reserved.
However, the joke was on those idiots who were all now probably on their second or third marriages, having spawned offspring just as awful as they were. Roger was a successful artist in Santa Fe and married to an angelic lady named Jill.
Before getting in the car, Mary Louise took the small bowl from her backpack and filled it with water for Pixie. She lapped it up quickly. Mary Louise stowed the backpack and then picked up Pixie. They settled into the front seat and Mary Louise headed for the house.
Once there, Pixie made herself at home and got some water from her bowl in the kitchen while Mary Louise poured herself a glass of iced tea. She took it to the living room and sat down in her favorite chair, looking out at the trees in the backyard. Pixie leapt onto Mary Louise’s legs uninvited, turned one circle, and then settled into her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world and she’d done it a thousand times. She gave one small sigh and rested her head on her paws, closing her eyes.
Mary Louise wasn’t sure what to do. She tentatively stroked Pixie’s soft fur. Pixie didn’t seem to mind. The warmth of the dozing dog seeped into the tops of Mary Louise’s thighs and she found it oddly comforting. She continued to stroke the dog and sip her tea. There were worse ways she could spend an afternoon.
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