\u201cWhere did you get that pit bull?\u201d Trixie said. Trixie, seated by the window, was fixated on Pearl. Pearl was chewing a piece of wood from a red cedar tree. Trixie had blonde hair that was moussed and curly, she had bangs above her eyes, and wore a white tee shirt with a black leather jacket and stone-washed jeans with white shoes. I\u2019d never met her before. She seemed very ordinary and Croker had never told me much about her.<\/p>\n
\u201cA drug addict on Craigslist,\u201d I said. I didn\u2019t look up from my phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd he wouldn’t even shake your hand,\u201d my wife said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, really?\u201d Trixie said.<\/p>\n
I was replaying the meeting at the CVS parking lot in my head. The guy was late because he had gone to the Walgreens. It was across the street and I watched him, his wife, and his daughter in the backseat as they backed out and came over and parked next to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I said to Trixie coming back to the conversation. \u201cIt was a couple years ago. I got her in January\u2014Pearl was a birthday present to myself. The man\u2019s daughter was in the back seat crying. His old lady had her forehead on the steering wheel. Odd situation.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHumboldt set little Pearl down, just for a minute, to make sure she could hold up her own weight,\u201d my wife said. \u201cAnd when he picked her back up, he felt abscesses all on her under belly from ant bites.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSounds like buying a pit bull,\u201d Trixie said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don’t call them that,\u201d my wife said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you call them?\u201d Trixie said. My grandmother came into the dining room then and set down a pitcher of ice water and lemon tea.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma, do you need some help?\u201d I said. I\u2019d paid her to cook dinner for this meeting. She wouldn\u2019t work for free and because she was getting paid she worked serious. I\u2019d told her what the meeting was about and I\u2019d long bragged her cooking to Croker and thought a home-cooked meal would be a good opportunity to reassure him he\u2019d chosen the best.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d my grandma said. She was wearing my grandpa\u2019s flannel shirts again. My grandma was a proud woman and didn’t want help unless she was dying\u2014and if she was dying she\u2019d probably want you to be quiet, sit with her, and, at the most, hold her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe call them bulldogs,\u201d my wife said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, there’s not much of a difference,\u201d Trixie said and she sipped more prosecco. She had brought two bottles and opened one early but no one was a fan so she drank it by herself. It was a mystery why she came without Croker. But being my boss\u2019 wife I didn\u2019t question it beyond where\u2019s Croker<\/em>? Trixie had said he told her he\u2019d meet her at my house so she came on time.<\/p>\n \u201cYes there is. It\u2019s the connotation.\u201d My wife said becoming irritated.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry Troy is late for dinner,\u201d Trixie said. She sipped more and was very mellow. Her eyes had a murkiness to them and her eyelids had a drab sheen like she slept in last night\u2019s makeup. \u201cYou\u2019d think the owner of the company wouldn\u2019t be late to the new foreman\u2019s dinner plans,\u201d Trixie said.<\/p>\n \u201cStar of the show can\u2019t be early,\u201d I said. I was back in my phone, planning a cruise to Alaska with my wife (another gift to myself), going through the many tabs I had opened, and hoping my wife could maintain a conversation with Trixie so I didn\u2019t have to. We always wanted to go to Norway but an Alaska cruise is a third of the price.<\/p>\n \u201cTroy loved you. He\u2019s always said you\u2019re the future of the company,\u201d Trixie said. \u201cHe\u2019s told the Tavares story for years.\u201d Trixie\u2019s eyes had been dry but looked a little damp now and she changed the subject. \u201cIs it always like that buying pits?\u201d Trixie said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen you\u2019re familiar to hard work, it\u2019s not even something you think about,\u201d my wife said and looked away quickly. She had a glass of prosecco near her that she looked at from time to time. Trixie had poured it when she first got here and passed it to her. My wife had taken the tiniest, obliging sip from it and now the condensation on the glass was cloudy and on the brink of letting a tear or two go. My wife drew in the condensation with the corner of her thumb nail.<\/p>\n \u201cIf I had kids like y\u2019all, I\u2019d be worried about them biting them,\u201d Trixie said. \u201cWhere are the kids?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Trixie,\u201d I said. \u201cIt is not always like that.\u201d I had begun a text to Croker, wondering where the hell he was, but I kept erasing everything I wrote before I decided to put my phone face-down on the table without sending a text. \u201cThe kids are with my mom,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s nothing a bulldog needs more than direction especially rescues. But that is how we like to get our dogs,\u201d my wife said. \u201cWe like to make a difference. Pearl was standing in her food bowl she was so hungry the night we brought her home. Just breathing into the food between bites.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy wouldn’t the guy shake your hand?\u201d Trixie asked and looked out the window, bringing her glass to her lips a few times.<\/p>\n \u201cI think he was upset that his landlord was making him give the dog up,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cShe is very pretty. Except that cut on her tongue. Did she get that fighting?\u201d Trixie asked and a smile peeked on the corner of her mouth.<\/p>\n My grandma came back into the dining room and set down a platter of street corn on a wicker pad. I went to stand but she shot me a dirty look like\u00a0don’t you dare<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cNo. Her tongue is over sized for her mouth,\u201d my wife said.<\/p>\n \u201cPearl\u2019s tongue is too big for her mouth?\u201d Trixie said. \u201cI know that feeling all too well,\u201d Trixie paused briefly and started up talking again. \u201cThat wood is pink in the middle,\u201d Trixie said.<\/p>\n \u201cYes. It’s red cedar,\u201d I said. \u201cThe same wood they use to shave into bedding for hamsters and stuff, even though it gives them a headache.\u201d I was itching to send a text Croker. I didn’t want to embarrass Trixie by asking her to get a hold of him and this was the first time I\u2019d met her. I expected Croker to walk through the front door any time. Croker had told me about her spending his money and her infidelity but I didn\u2019t want that to affect the way I interacted with her.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have three bulldogs, right?\u201d Trixie asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYep,\u201d my wife said. She knew these things about Trixie as well because I\u2019d told her.<\/p>\n My grandmother, carrying dishes of food on a serving board shaped like a fish, set the board down in the middle of the table: it was two smaller dishes and a steaming gravy boat.<\/p>\n \u201cHave they ever killed anything?\u201d Trixie asked. My wife repositioned in her chair and looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing I didn’t want them to,\u201d I said quickly. I was joking but Trixie looked interested.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat have they killed?\u201d Trixie asked.<\/p>\n \u201cPearl once caught a bird out of the sky. Caught it like a Frisbee,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cCaught it with her lock jaws, huh?\u201d Trixie asked with a smile. She had a far away look but came back to us when she topped her glass again. She was starring at Pearl still peeling the piece of wood she had between her two paws.<\/p>\n \u201cActually, bulldogs don’t have lock jaws. They are just strong and determined,\u201d my wife said. \u201cThey also have one of the best temperaments\u2014they have a pretty high IQ\u2014they are not what people think they are.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was thinking of getting a few. Maybe to take with me,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd with Troy. Y\u2019all will put me on to someone who has a puppy they want to sell?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to be the right kind of person,\u201d my wife said.<\/p>\n \u201cTheir main job here is to scare off rodents and rabbits digging up the garden,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd to get after the possums and raccoons.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike I said, bulldogs need direction. And love. If people would take the responsibilities serious, we wouldn\u2019t have 40,000 of these dogs being euthanized a month in the US,\u201d my wife said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is Croker?\u201d I asked, for the first time since Trixie had first arrived.<\/p>\n My grandma came through the door and set the chicken down. It was a whole chicken. Across its legs and wings were tight tied strings that held herbs to it; it looked like scored bread with a buttery glow.<\/p>\n Croker should have already been here. All he does is work. If he\u2019s late, it\u2019s usually work-related. I was supposed to be getting a raise; a new title.\u00a0The dinner, the stogies, were just icing on the cake like the cruise to Alaska. Monday morning, when I agreed to head up the hospital job, we\u2019d shook hands on the promotion and Croker said he\u2019d be back in time, at the latest, for the dinner Wednesday. Yeah, Croker\u2019s kept me waiting for paperwork plenty but as far as promises, he\u2019s there for me more than my own father.<\/p>\n \u201cI’ll call him,\u201d Trixie said and went to get up. \u201cYou know Troy, meeting with all kinds of random people. There\u2019s no telling who\u2019s got a hold of him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo you won’t,\u201d my grandma said. \u201cSit down. I’ve been whipping this up for more than three hours. We are going to eat without Mr. Croker.\u201d<\/p>\n Trixie sat back down and her phone call to Croker rang and rang. Croker did not answer before it went to voicemail and Trixie hung up.<\/p>\n My grandma, while looking at Trixie, sharpened her knife with two drags on the sharpener. She cut the string from the drumsticks. The chicken opened some and rested; steam rolled from it. It was stuffed full of apples, pineapples, and more leafy herbs. We all served ourselves sides and my grandma divvied out the meat.<\/p>\n I finally had sent Croker a text and he had not texted me back. He was known to do that. If it was urgent, though, he\u2019d always get back to me quickly. I didn\u2019t want to seem desperate to confirm my raise. I didn\u2019t want Trixie getting the wrong idea of me and getting in Croker\u2019s ear. My wife was famished and ate heartily. My grandma was cleaning the juice and oil from the carving knife. She set the utensils down and looked at everyone like they were basking in the sun on the pool deck she built. I had a fork in my right hand. My phone was in my lap in the other hand. Trixie was using the back side of her spoon to make a perfect caldera in her mound of mashed potatoes. She filled the depression with brown gravy careful to not let a drop escape and roll down the perfectly clean white sides. The little specks that did, she examined and cleaned up.<\/p>\n \u201cSo where are y\u2019all going?\u201d I said and checked my phone again. Still, nothing from Croker.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are we going?\u201d Trixie repeated.<\/p>\n \u201cYou said you want us to put you on to someone about some bulldogs to go with you and Croker. Where are y\u2019all going?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cI wish we could go to the moon,\u201d Trixie said. She was still fixing her potatoes and paused. \u201cI think we are just going to go to Idaho. We want to see the Salmon River, the Middle Fork.\u201d She looked up from her plate at me and smiled. \u201cWouldn\u2019t it be nice, away from the world out there? Me and some dogs catching our dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCroker is more of a Key-West guy. I can\u2019t see you getting him to go to the middle of nowhere, let alone out west,\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s always going on about Puerto Rico, though.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019d have a hard time gallivanting the Salmon River with three dogs,\u201d my grandma said. When my grandma wore my grandpa\u2019s clothes, they always made her seem a bit loopy but today she was spot on. \u201cWell. How\u2019s the damn food everybody?\u201d<\/p>\n We all said our piece about how good the food was except Trixie. Trixie had sculpted the food on her plate to perfection: she couldn\u2019t stack her green beans any more uniformed, her street corn, on its side, was buttered and balanced, her potatoes and gravy immaculate, and her chicken slices, model striation, so she drank more prosecco.<\/p>\n My wife was on to seconds. I was getting there.<\/p>\n My grandma was glaring at Trixie\u2019s fixings, willing her to lie in the neat bed she\u2019d made. Pearl was lying on her back with that piece of wood in her mouth. She was dusty and had her straw bedding stuck to her in small patches, some on her underbelly. All of her paws were outstretched to the sky. She was letting the piece of wood fall from her mouth and re-catching it. Trixie\u2019s phone was face-up flat on the dining table. The phone rang and we all looked to her, expecting it to be Croker. Trixie quickly silenced it. She did not look up to make eye contact, but she was blushing. My wife looked at me, and when I noticed her, she pointed her lips at Trixie, but kept working on her plate. My grandmother was not lost on us. I had seen the phone when it rang and the caller was an unsaved number. My mother, I\u2019ll call her back later,<\/em> Trixie said.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My grandma was glaring at Trixie\u2019s fixings willing her to lie in the neat bed she\u2019d made. Pearl was lying on her back with that piece of wood in her mouth. She was dusty and had her straw bedding stuck to her in small patches, some on her underbelly. All of her paws were outstretched to the sky. She was letting the piece of wood fall from her mouth and recatching it. Trixie\u2019s phone was face-up flat on the dining table. The phone rang and we all looked to her expecting it to be Croker. Trixie quickly silenced it. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":15706,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[1747,358,972,2621,2042,1169,81,13],"class_list":["post-15510","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-construction","tag-dogs","tag-family","tag-fiction","tag-food","tag-mystery","tag-travel","tag-work","writer-michael-hammerle"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15510","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15510"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15510\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15707,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15510\/revisions\/15707"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15706"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15510"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15510"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15510"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}