Friday
night is always pizza night at the Shuck household, and we will bake a pizza pie every week
and add all the toppings we love, making it one of the best pizzas
in the world. After taking it out and
letting it cool, all the dogs will stand around the counter and just look at it
and then look at me, then back at the pie.
Something that will not end as most of you know if you have a Border
Collie.
When
I was just eight years old; nearly every Sunday afternoon, my parents would take my
sister and me to see Aunt Minnie after Sunday dinner. She and Uncle George lived about 50 miles away and
something we did nearly every weekend to see my Mother’s favorite sister. We would pile into the 1961 Chevy Bel-Air and
hear off for the long journey to Lebanon Junction, Kentucky, which to us kids
was near across the country. Me standing
on the floorboard of the car looking out the front windshield while Mom held me
and my sister Diane coloring in the back was the norm.
After
slicing the pizza Friday night, it’s time to make the trip to the family room for dinner to
watch TV, but not after getting my pizza slices first and me secretly taking the
largest pieces. Going down the stairs is
a challenge to say the least because all of the dogs are heading with us wanting their piece,
sometimes getting underfoot.
During
to trip to Lebanon Junction, Dad would always stop at a small town that had a
small store. It had wonderful things to
look at and things to eat for people making a journey. It was customary to take a bathroom break for
us kids, and we always got a snack for the rest of the “road trip” if we had
been good so far. Both my Dad and Uncle George worked for the railroad, and Lebanon Junction was a small railroad community making the sights worthwhile to me.
Settling
down into my recliner, I placed the plate of pizza on my lap but now have a ring of
dogs watching me and every hand movement is followed by their eyes especially
when I go to the plate. I always tell
the dogs the same thing, “I don’t eat your food, so don’t expect to eat my food.”
but I know they know better as they continue to watch every movement I make
hoping I would drop something.
I
can still smell that very store on the way to Aunt Minnie’s house on that
little two-lane road and see the images of it in my mind but what I remember
the most are the soft-drink machine sitting on the floor. Dad would always give us a dime and we would
feed the machine sliding our treat through a few channels pulling our drink
up through the gate that released it after paying for it and I do remember Dad
helping me because I was too little.
After
watching me nearly finish my pizza, the dogs can’t stand it. “It’s mine,” I said, but I still had a piece of
crust left, and I think they knew what was coming because they would look at me
and at the crust and then back at me. I know
it’s also wrong to feed them human food, and I know I’m making the problem worse, and the drama continues.
Sitting
in the back seat of the 61 Bel-Air, Diane and I had our most coveted treasure. We had an ice-cold, super sweet, and delicious
bottle of Choc-ola. We ran to the car before Mom and Dad, bopping with joy.
Each of us putting out thumb over the opening of the bottle to shake it
because of its settled chocolate, drinking it in nearly a few swallows, and
then it was over… or was it?
After
my pizza was gone, and my soft-drink was finished, the looks from the dogs never stopped because there was one piece of crust still on the plate, so they knew there
was a chance.
After
finishing our CHOC-OLA, we saved our bottles to get our 2 cent bottle deposit
back. Mom and Dad got a single ice cream
cone, Mom liked Vanilla and Dad loved Maple-nut. Without fail, Dad would eat all the cone
except the very bottom and pass it back to me.
The best part of any ice cream cone is the last bite, and he gave it to me. I never realized until later in life how
much he loved me and to think a soggy cone bottom and pizza would flood me with memories
like it did on Friday night.
As
usual, I took the last piece of pizza crust, broke it into small pieces, and
gave each dog a share, just like someone once shared with me. I now know how much he loved me, and I know how much I love the dogs because the last bite is the best... Ken
