A couple walks by, wrangling not one, not two, but an entire six-pack of standard golden retrievers in matching sweaters. One barks, and the others follow. “Boy, it looks like they have their hands full,” I say low so they don’t hear as they pass.
Chuckling, he says, “Right, I bet there’s never a dull moment.”
We pause and watch them parade down the walking path. One of the dogs lifts a leg on a bush, at which point we turn away to give him privacy. “I had a dog when I was little,” I say, not sure where the memory came from but suddenly unable to stop it. “Her name was Shoo Shoo. She was such a flirt. She would always run after the mailman and the delivery guys, but only on the days the male carriers stopped. If it was a woman, she wouldjust sneeze at them. For the males, she’d never bark, but just wagged her tail, waiting to be petted.”
“She sounds sweet. I have one dog. He’s nearly twenty, and I got him right after high school. His name is Puck”
I blink at him. “Of course that would be his name. What breed is he?”
“Bulldog.”
I nod, as it fits his personality perfectly. “Has he been a good dog to take care of?
“For the most part. He does have a problem with stealing and hiding my things. I have to make sure everything is locked up, because it’s also the most random stuff that I would never think he’d want. Of course, it’s always when I need the item he’s hidden, and I’m low on time. Sometimes it drives me to the near point of insanity, but I love him.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It can be, but it’s the game he plays and loves.”
We’re both grinning now, and a comfortable silence settles between us for a beat, until he glances over at me. “Okay, I have a very important question, and you have to be honest.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who said I wasn’t honest?”
“Oh, you absolutely are.” He stops walking and stands in front of the waffle truck. “What’s the weirdest food combo you actually like?”
I know exactly what to say, as I have a weird favorite food that spurred during my pregnancy with Noah eighteen years ago, and the cravings never left. However, it’s more than a little weird. I’m not sure he’s ready to hear this yet, so I pretend to think, stalling, and say, “You first.”
“Fine.” He straightens with too much confidence. “I love an ice-cold Coke with olives in it.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“I know it’s crazy, but once you get over the ick factor, you will find it’s not much different than a beer with olives. That used to be my favorite drink, but I gave up drinking booze years ago and was looking for a substitute. This is what I landed on. You should try it sometime.”
I gag dramatically and turn my shoulder to him, acting like he’s suddenly contaminated, and I don’t want to look at him. “I feel like you shouldn’t tell people that.”
“What? It has fizz and salt.”
“All right, fine,” I say, lifting my hands in surrender. “Mine is just as bad. When I was pregnant with Noah, I craved two foods and only two foods. I couldn’t get enough of them, so I started mixing them together in a bowl.”
He freezes. “This is going to be gross, isn’t it?”
“Tuna with butterscotch pudding.”
“That’s”—he makes a sound halfway between a groan and a gag—“so disgusting?”
I shrug, not offended at all because I know. “I blamed the hormones for a long time, but really it’s not much different than putting mayo on tuna, and how many people do that?”
He presses both palms to his face like he’s in pain. “No, Ruth, it’s a lot different than mayo.”
“I stand by it,” I say sweetly. “If I have to try your Coke olives, you can try my butterscotch tuna.
He peeks through his fingers, mock horrified. “You realize I’m totally judging you now.”
I lean in a little, biting back a smile. “And I you, but you started it.”
A spark gleams out of the center of his eyes, making me enjoy the conversation so much more. In a way, it feels like we’ve been friends for a long time. “What do you think?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to the waffle truck. “Should we start with the jalapeño waffle stick?”
“You would want to start with that?” He laughs but doesn’t hesitate to get in front of the truck window, ordering us both a big waffle stick with raspberry dipping sauce. It’s not something I’d normally eat, but it’s a beautiful day. I’m up for the challenge.
