“Well, can’t it be both? People can be friends with their pets, right?”
Kailee thinks about this for a moment. “You’re not friends with Stella,” she says.
She’s got me there. But friends or not, I still gotta feed the thing.
As I shuffle over to get Stella’s food and start the coffee, I say over my shoulder, “What’s for breakfast?”
“Daddy,” Kailee giggles, “that’syourjob.”
“Oh, is that right?” I crouch down to get a scoop of kibble, which we keep beneath the sink. It’s the cheap stuff. Not the organic frou-frou crap my ex used to buy from Whole Foods, or as I prefer to call it, Whole Paycheck. Not that Stella seems to mind; I can hear her behind me, her nails clicking on the floor as she does her happy dance of anticipation. I dump Stella’s food into her bowl, and then I dump some coffee beans into the coffee grinder.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweet pea?”
“What are you gonna make for breakfast?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Let me get this coffee started and I’ll take a look at what we have.”
I press down the top of the grinder and it growls into action. The noise, oddly enough, soothes me. But then again, so does the sound of gunfire. Yeah, I’ve got some issues.
I get the coffee going and then check out the fridge. As I scan the contents—some beer, cottage cheese, sandwich meat, floppy celery—my stomach growls. I’m hungry, but at the same time, I’m not sure I can eat. It feels like my guts are all balled up into a fist.
“Hey sweet pea?”
“Yes, daddy?”
“I was thinking about donuts just now, and how maybe that would be a good breakfas—”
“Yes! Can we, daddy?Pleeease?”
In case it wasn’t clear, my little angel loves donuts. I mean, who doesn’t? I look at her with total seriousness and say, “Well, I’d love to have donuts, but I was told that only girls who make their beds and get their backpacks ready for gramma’s get to have donuts for breakfas—”
Before I finish the sentence, she’s up and out of the breakfast nook, charging toward her bedroom.
Seeing her running—something as simple as that—makes my heart swell with love. And it’s not until she’s in her room, out of sight, that the following thought tugs at the sleeve of my mind.
How about a nip?A little hair of the dog to mix in with your coffee?
I close my eyes.
It would help with the hangover. And the anxiety.
I clench my jaw and inhale through my nose.
It would give me a little pep in my step so I don’t get to the station this morning looking like death warmed over.
I open my eyes and walk over to the cabinet where I keep the liquor. I could do just one shot. It’s not like it’ll get me drunk or anything.
Kailee comes bursting out of her bedroom with her Dora the Explorer backpack. “Donut time!” she shouts.
“Did you remember to pack your toothbrush this time?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“And you made your bed?”
“Yes, so can we puh-leezget some donuts already?”
