This is the seventh part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI before continuing.
Having relieved myself, I allowed myself a lengthy exhale of relief, then regarded myself in the mirror.
I had slept better than expected, considering I had spent the night in my car, but I was a mess.
I couldn’t exactly change into my pajamas in my uncle’s driveway, so I had slept in my clothes and my hair was smoothed down on one side, but the other side looked like a couple of birds had taken up residence there.
I ran my fingers through my hair before an idea hit me.
No.
My grandmother’s comb wouldn’t still be in its drawer, would it?
I open the drawer, and sure enough, there it is.
I use it to tame my hair and give myself a stern look.
I don’t want to face my uncle. It’s already been such a shitty few weeks.
But, I don’t have a choice.
I love my dog, and will do anything to keep her safe and comfortable.
So, here goes nothing.
The bathroom is in the middle of a hallway that leads from the living room at the front of the house to my uncle’s bedroom at the back of the house. I walk down the hallway to the living room, still mustering up the courage to fight with my uncle.
No sooner had I stepped into the dining room than I saw the man I had shoved Cordy at sitting at the kitchen table feeding Cordy sausage links.
“You are not feeding that dog from this table,” my uncle said.
The man calmly fed Cordy a bit of scrambled egg as though my uncle hadn’t even spoken.
I took a minute to adjust my strategy at this unexpected development, then pipe up. “I actually have to agree with my uncle on this one. Feeding dogs from the table encourages begging. She shouldn’t even be in the kitchen when there’s food on the table.”
“There! Ya see,” my uncle announced triumphantly.
The man turned from Cordy and goes back to eating his breakfast.
Cordy continued giving him the Big Brown Puppy Dog Eye Treatment, but he resolutely avoided looking at her.
I went over, picked Cordy up, and put her down in the living room. I commanded her to stay and she barked at me, which I interpreted as, “How dare you!”
But I kept my eye on her as I walked backwards to the kitchen table, making sure she didn’t move.
“That’s a well-trained dog you’ve got there,” the man said.
“Thanks,” I said, before remembering my manners and stretching out a hand. “Charlotte Hansen. Everyone calls me Charlie.”
My uncle burst out laughing. “You don’t remember Mike Lawler?”
My jaw dropped, hand suspended in midair as I took in the man’s features again and tried to reconcile them with the kid I used to play with every summer.
He saw the look on my face and grinned as he took my hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I- I’m so sorry,” I stumbled. “It’s been so long, I- I just wasn’t thinking.”
He waved away my apology with one hand as he dug back into his breakfast with the other. “Don’t worry. I probably wouldn’t have recognized you either if Phil hadn’t told me his niece was the one sleeping in the car parked in his driveway.”
I looked between him and my uncle as I scrambled for something to say. Uncle Phil was no help as he laughed at my confusion, shaking his head as he went back to eating his breakfast.
“You work for Uncle Phil now?”
“Yep. Took over my daddy when he got sick a couple years back.”
“Your dad is sick?”
“Dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Mike nodded, then changed the subject by pointing at the plate of eggs and sausage in the center of the table. “You’d better eat up. We’re moving the cattle from the north pasture into the south pasture today.”
“We?”
“Now, you know you can’t stay in this house for free,” said Uncle Phil.
“I know. I was hoping I could pay rent.”
“I don’t need your money. What I need is help moving these cattle.”
I sighed. I had been expecting this, but it was still disappointing. “I have to walk Cordy first.”
“She can come herd cattle with us,” said Mike.
“No, she cannot,” Uncle Phil said, pointing a fork at Mike. “That would make her a farm dog, and farm dogs don’t come in this house.”
“We had a discussion while you were sleeping in the car about the difference between farm dogs and house dogs and why, just because one is allowed inside, doesn’t mean the other should abide by the same rules.”
“I see,” I said, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that in all the arguments I had had with Uncle Phil in my head over this very issue while driving here from Chicago.
“So, you better hurry up and get ready, because cattle don’t wait for anyone.”
I gazed at the plate of food as I wondered how I was going to have time to eat and walk Cordy. I couldn’t make her wait or she’d make a mess in my uncle’s house and then we’d have to find somewhere else to live. I was also realizing I was very hungry.
“Do you have a thermos?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said, pointing to the cupboard.
I got a thermos from the cupboard he had indicated and filled it with coffee from the pot on the counter. Then I took a piece of toast, slapped some eggs and sausage on it, covered it with another piece of toast, and headed for the door.
I didn’t even have to call Cordy to come after me, especially once she saw I was taking food with me.
To be continued…