Hi! My name is Patrick, and I’m your waiter this morning! Eggs Florentine is the brunch special today, along with freshly baked pumpkin muffins. Can I get you some coffee to start, sir?”
My dad ordered cappuccino, and I got orange juice. Jane had to get water because she hates those little pip things in fresh-squeezed juice, which is the only kind you can get at the places Dad takes us. Then I thought about Harry in the backpack at my feet, and I ordered an extra water.
Of course, getting Harry into the backpack had been a bit of a challenge.
In my first conscious minute, I felt him lick my face and knead my chest with his paws and flap his tail back and forth across my arm like a flyswatter. This is a lot of activity to wake up to. Especially to pretend that all this motion was coming from me.
Jane was rubbing her eyes and watching me with curiosity. It would be a disaster for Jane to know about Harry.
I put a pillow over her face and used the three seconds before she pulled it off, screaming, to leap from the bed with Harry in my arms and head for the bathroom, dragging my backpack full of clothes with my foot.
While I was getting dressed, I could hear Harry’s panting, as regular as a raspy clock. I fed him most of the PuppySnack. And just while I was wondering if I could teach Harry to pee in the toilet, I stepped in a puddle and realized he had taken care of the problem for this morning. “Almost totally trained,” I heard Jody’s voice in my head. “Mostly only outside.” It took half a roll of toilet paper (and six flushes) to dry the floor.
Harry was very involved in the cleanup. He kept bumping into me and getting caught between my feet. Soggy bits of toilet paper, stuck to Harry’s paws, seemed to be dancing by themselves on the tiles.
Then suddenly, he made a weird little growl in his throat, and I smelled something I hope never to be quite so close to again.
“Harry!” I moaned. But I couldn’t move because I didn’t know where he’d made the drop. I sat as still as the toilet until I could see a faint pile of poop appearing under the sink— thankfully nowhere near the rug.
“Billie!” wailed Jane. “It’s my turn.”
“One second!”
I took another roll of paper from the cupboard and scooped the mound into the toilet. One final flush, and one long spray of Natural Citrus Atomizer to clear the air.
“That was completely disgusting, Harry,” I scolded in a whisper.
He whimpered.
I cleaned off his paws and picked him up. “But I still love you.” I rolled my cheek against his dear invisible ears and then shoveled him into my pack, despite the feet going every which way. I left the top zipper open in case he wanted to poke his face out. It seemed like he was little enough to fit with room to spare.
I could have eaten breakfast four times by the time the drinks came. I don’t know why we can’t just have cereal at Dad’s house, but this brunch thing is his idea of living it up. Maybe because my mom thinks breakfast should be eaten at home, wearing pajamas, he automatically does the opposite.
Jane had torn off the corner of a sugar packet and was quietly dipping her finger in and then licking it. Dad was reading the Arts & Leisure section of the Sunday paper. Harry must have been asleep inside my pack, because he was very still.
I slid the saucer from under the creamer and casually slipped it onto my lap. Jane was instantly on alert.
“Dad!” she said in her informative voice. “Billie …”
I eyeballed the sugar packet and gave her a warning squint.
“Dad!” I said as a diversionary tactic.
“Mmmmm?” He turned a page.
“Did you put anything in your hair? I mean, it looks like you used cement or something. It hasn’t moved.”
I gently shifted the saucer to the floor.
“Oh, no! You can tell? I tried something new.” He was patting his head in a panic, looking in the mirror behind me, trying to ruffle up his hair.
I quickly poured the water from my glass into Harry’s saucer.
“I think it looks nice, Daddy,” said Jane. “You look like a man in a magazine.”
Harry barked.
I jumped half out of my chair. It was the first time he’d made a noise. And even though it was just a little bitty baby bark, it was still a very doglike noise. I had completely forgotten about this particular problem.
Jane and Dad were staring at me.
“Woof,” I barked, as best I could. Dad raised an eyebrow, and Jane looked under the table. She sat back up and wrinkled her nose at me.
“Meow?” I tried as I slipped a PuppySnack out of my pocket and dropped it by my sneaker.
Jane grinned. “R-R-Roar!” Now it was a game.
Dad glanced around at the other brunchers and glared at us.
“Can we save the animal noises for the park, girls?”
“Sure, Dad,” I agreed. “I was just making conversation.”
The food came. Jane and I both had waffles. It’s kind of a test to see how many times we can ask for more syrup before my dad gets fed up.
I now know that Harry loves waffles. He stood up on his back legs, scratching my knees with his paws, begging for food.
I started to hum, to cover the panting. I felt like a grain elevator, passing chunks down to him every twenty seconds. He ate half my breakfast, and nobody noticed. Except my stomach.
No offense to Dad, but he’s not completely aware of his surroundings at all times. That might be why he’s a great artist; he can create a beautiful idea in his mind while he’s doing the dishes. Even though it sometimes feels like he’s just not paying attention.
But I knew the real test of Harry’s life would be my mother.